The two-hundred fiftieth Games: Buried in the Bloody Snow SYOT CLOSED
by The Mockingjay Lives
Summary: This year's Quarter Quell will be different than ever before. More children will fall. Blood will be spilled in the crimson snow. Every tribute is a toy for the Capitol's joy. Life, Death, Hope, Sorrow. Welcome to the 250th Hunger Games.
1. Quarter Quell Announcement

"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both."

-Niccolo Machiavelli

Chapter One: The Quell Announcement

"President Caninus, you're live," came a tinny voice in his earbud. The aged President Caninus rose stiffly from his chair. "Welcome!" he boomed into the microphone. "Welcome to the Quell Announcement, ladies and gentlemen." All of Panem waited with various degrees of horror, excitement, and anticipation. A small boy dressed in black brought a gilded box to the president. He opened it with fumbling fingers. He pulled out the card marked '250'. "Our Quarter Quell this year," he read, "To represent that the Capitol can bring down and humiliate, but also raise up and assist its citizens, the Capitol will give every tribute a special power before they are brought into the arena." When this was processed, the cheering and applause was immense. The president bowed and returned to his seat. Everyone was going to love this year's Hunger Games. They already did, and they didn't even know what had been planned for the arena yet...


	2. District One: Miri and Marcus

"I will slaughter and cause devastation to my enemy...so my name will live."

-Genghis Khan

District One Reaping

Miri Ismail-Pignati

"Rise and shine, sweetie. It's Reaping day. You have to get ready."

That's my aunt Sandra. She takes care of me because my dad left me and his wife when I was five. Then my mom died when I was seven. I loved her so much, but I hate my dad. Why did he leave us? He had a daughter and a wife. I remember asking my mom where daddy went. She said he went away and wasn't going to come back.

"Miri, sweetie. Get up. You have to get dressed now." I burrow deep into my covers. "Miri!" "Fine, I'm getting up," I mumble into my pillow. She leaves the room and I emerge from my bed. I get out of bed and brush my sandy blonde hair. I freshen up the red tips with some hair dye, then put it into bobs and pull it back in a green headband. I dress in a green sparkly dress and a black sweater, then finish it off with some black shoes. I'm ready.

I care deeply about my appearance, but I'm not vain. I just want to make a good impression. And I can wear all these pretty clothes because my aunt spoils me. She adores me and gets me just about anything I want. I have gorgeous clothes, delicious food and I go to the best school there is in District One.

"Miri? Are you ready? I have a cake for you on the table and a glass of milk. Come and eat, please." She gets me a cake every Reaping day, so I've gotten eight altogether. This is my eighth because I'm fifteen and I've lived with her for eight years.

I eat my cake and drink my milk quickly. "Aunt Sandra? Can I go out and meet Momo? He said he'd wait for me so we could go to the Reaping together." I call. My friend's real name is Monique but I call him Momo. "Okay, Miri. I'll catch up in a second. Go ahead." I dance around happily for a moment then run outside to meet him.

Momo is my best friend. He's also my only friend. I don't have any others because I'm so pampered and I get whatever I want. That makes people jealous of me. But I have Momo and that is enough.

"Hey, Miri," I hear when I get outside. A smile breaks onto my face. Momo always makes me smile. "Hey yourself. Where are you?" His voice came from right in front of me but I don't see him. He suddenly swings down from a tree in front of me. "Impressed?" he grins. I scowl at him. "I can do that too." I climb into the tree and wave at him, then climb down. He snorts, miffed that I can do whatever he can. "Hmm. Well, let's go to the Reaping now."

When we get there he has just enough time to ask me, "Are you volunteering?" I nod. Then the escort claps her hands for attention. "Welcome, everyone! Let's draw the names, and we'll have ladies first!" She yanks a slip of paper out of the girls' ball and screeches in a nails-on-chalkboard voice, "Miri Ismail-Pignati!"

What? I was all ready to volunteer and I got drawn anyway! I prance to the stage and glare at all the girls in the audience who are about to volunteer. My glare says, "If you volunteer for me, I will chop you into hash." The escort looks taken aback that there are no volunteers but she reaches for a boy's name...

Marcus Nosa

"Marcus. Get up right now, I mean it. Get up, you lazy sloth!" Just a typical morning at my house. That's my father waking me up. Not exactly in a nice way. "Get up this instant, you little pain!" This is puncuated by a blow to my shoulder. "Okay, I'm up!" I yell hastily and scramble out of bed. "Good. Get dressed." He throws my clothes at me and leaves.

I dress in the blue shirt, black pants and black vest he threw at me. I add some shoes and my gray fedora. "Mark." My older brother Preston is standing in the doorway. "Don't call me Mark. I'm Marcus. Nicknames are for little kids. I'm sixteen, and that is not a little kid," I grumble at him.

He sighs. "Look, Marcus. I just came over here to say sorry for Dad hitting you. You know why he's always so upset on Reaping day." I nod wearily. I know why. A few days before I was born, my sister Clara died in the Hunger Games. She was so close to winning. There was just her and some snob from District Four left. Clara fell in love with the nasty District Four boy and actually sacrificed herself so he could win. Besides the pain of losing her, my parents had to cope with the dishonor of their Career tribute daughter _sacrificing _herself. Careers don't do that.

I head out the door to train outside with my friends. I do it without my father knowing because he'd probably get mad at me. He gets mad at whatever I do.

"Hello, Marcus! What took you so long?" calls a friendly voice. "Yeah, what took you so long?" echoes another. "We thought you'd been eaten by bears!" "We've grown old waiting!" Those are my friends. They're such goofballs. They are:

Jack Bellman, the nice guy who's friends with everyone. He's a redhead like me.

Martin Bragg, the guy I know only because he saved me and pulled me out of a ditch once.

Mai Prentice, the girl who acts tough but who's actually really sweet on the inside.

And Lily Hall...well, she's more than just a friend to me. I get a pleasant tingle down my spine when I'm around her. She has silvery blue eyes like I do but she's blonde.

"Hey, people. Going on a run now. Any of you coming with me?" I ask. "Definitely," they all agree. We set off on a brisk pace down the road to the Reaping. I pull ahead of everyone else and push myself to my speed limit. This is supposed to be my training now.

We reach the Reaping square and go into our age sections. "Welcome, everyone. Let's draw the names, and we'll have ladies first!" says the escort. She takes out a paper and screeches, "Miri Ismail-Pignati!" She walks to the stage and I widen my eyes. She's almost as pretty as Lily. For some reason nobody volunteers. The escort draws a boy's name and announces, "Marcus Nosa!"

I walk to the stage. Again, there are no volunteers.


	3. District Three: Erica and Narui

"There are maybe two or three thousand people in the world as smart as us, little sister."

-Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game

District Three Reaping

Erica Jones

"Sissy." I hear an annoying whine but ignore it. "Sissy!" Not paying attention. "Sissy get up!" shrieks my little sister. I grope around for my glasses. _Thunk. _Brilliant, they fell on the ground. My sister laughs and snatches them. I hear her footsteps pounding away.

"Mom, Isabelle took my glasses!" I yell, and stagger out of bed, virtually blind. I run into the wall where my clothes are hung and my dress falls on top of me. Not _a _dress, _my _dress. That should show you the extent of my wardrobe. I pull it on, still unable to see, but I know it's red and knee length because I can remember what my only dress looks like, thank you very much.

I run my fingers through my mousy brown hair and wander around until I hit the doorframe. "Ouch. Isabelle, give me my glasses now!" I hear a giggle and I lunge for it. _Crunch. _Uh-oh, that sounded like my glasses. "That wasn't my fault, Sissy. You broke your own glasses. I didn't," she says innocently. I growl at her and gingerly pick up the shattered remains. I am so not getting new ones, they cost an arm and a leg. But with a bit of tape...

There. I tape them back together and slide them on. "If I weren't mature and sixteen years old, Isabelle, I'd eat you up," I threaten her. She snorts. "Mature, my foot. A person from the Capitol would be more mature than you." I wish she wouldn't learn phrases like 'my foot'. Our mom gets mad at me because she thinks I taught her that. I have no idea where she learns them.

Isabelle, my mom and I all eat a bit of bread I scavenged yesterday. I'm good at that; I'm also good at building things and hiding. We go to the Reaping and I stand in the sixteen section. The escort with a buzzing voice almost as annoying as Isabelle's draws a name for a doomed girl. Isabelle is safe, she's six. "Erica Jones!"

Was I actually just Reaped? Did the Capitol just choose me to die? Did it really? It did. I am going to die, and there is nothing I can do about it...

Narui Chahnye

I yawn and stretch, and narrowly avoid falling off the branch I'm perched precariously on. Scrambling back on, I try to remember why I'm up here. I snap my fingers. That's why! I was running from those bullies last night. I outran them easily but didn't want to risk going back so I slept up here all night.

I climb down and wonder what to eat. It's not as if I can just go home and have breakfast. I don't have a home. I don't even live in an orphanage. When my parents died, I ran away. The orphanage here in District Three has a bad reputation for mistreating the children in it. Starving them and beating them. Not the kind of place I'd want to live in. So I live on my own, even though I'm only fourteen.

There's a bird's nest above me. There'll be eggs in it. So I climb back into the tree and take it down. Yes, two yummy eggs. There isn't any other way to get eggs in District Three. You have to find them in a wild bird's nest at the top of a tree, and there's only this straggly section of forest in the whole district.

I make a good meal and suck the eggs, then wash it down with a bit of pond water. I scooped up the water in my little cup of wood. Making things out of wood is something I'm very good at doing. It's fun too, designing little whirls and carvings into them.

Sadly, though I live on my own and follow no other rules, I must go to the Reaping. Otherwise a Peacekeeper would find me and kill me. So I tramp over to the Reaping square. The same thing as usual happens with the girls. A girl called Erica Jones who looks terrified staggers to the platform. That happens every year. Then a boy's name is called and it's "Narui Chahnye!" What the... Maybe I should have stayed away from the Reaping. I'd have a better chance of surviving.


	4. District Four: Elizabeth and Nurturew

"All warfare is based on deception."

-Sun Tzu, The Art of War

District Four Reaping

Elizabeth Shore

"Liz. Wake up. Liz. Liz!"

"HELP ME!" I scream, jerking awake, then realize it was a nightmare. My usual nightmare. I'm in a wide, flat, open space. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I've had that dream every night of every one of my sixteen years I can remember.

"Liz, it's okay. Shh, it's okay. You're fine now," soothes my mother. I shudder and curl into a ball. "Mom, what if when I volunteer today, and go to the games, the whole arena's like that? A wide open space. I'll panic and someone will kill me." "No, you won't. You'll be fine. You'll win. Now get up, please. You have to be ready for the Reaping." she tells me and leaves the room.

I get out of bed and stretch. I put on a brown skirt and a white shirt. I love brown. My whole room is filled with it. I have brown hair too, but although I wish I had brown eyes, they're green.

"Elizabeth? Eat breakfast now, then go and train." I do so, and eat a pathetic breakfast of one fish. We're pretty poor. We used to be well off, but when my dad died, we lost everything. I miss him so much.

Outside is where I train, so I go and find my weapons first. I'm good with all weapons, pretty much, so just not really great at any. I'm also good at running. I run outside with my sword, dagger, bow, and spear. I get a few slashes with the sword, a thrust with the dagger, a shot with the bow and a throw with the spear. Then it's time to go to the Reaping.

When we get there, the escort Tasha Olila is reaching into the girls' ball. Before she can even open her mouth I shout, "I volunteer!" Tasha raises her eyebrow. "Very excited, aren't we? Very well, come up here now dear." I imitate her funny little side-to-side jiggle of walking as I go up to the platform. "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Shore and I'm sixteen years old," I mimic in her prissy voice. Her cheeks flush and to cover it she grabs a boy's name...

Nurturew Quetile

"Nuri. If you don't get up this instant I'll-"

"I'm getting up! I'm up! See!" I jump out of bed straight into my sister. That's not good. "Nuri! You pain. Put some clothes on and eat your food. Oh wait, sorry, I ate all your food. None for you. Get dressed." She walks away and I groan. I didn't have any dinner yesterday because apparently I stepped on her foot. My big sister is a tyrant.

I dress in the only clothes I have; a blue shirt and jeans. It's not as if Mandelle the tyrannical sister would let me have any other clothes when there are fancy dresses to be bought for herself. And why give me any food when there are sweets to be bought for herself?

"Nur-ri! Why aren't you in here?" "You said I couldn't have any food, so why would I be over there?" I retort. "No excuses!" she screeches. She backhands me across my cheek and I fly into the wall. As I struggle to my feet, a welt rising on my face, I make a decision. I'm going to volunteer today at the Reaping. To be free of this demonic mockery of family.

"And don't even think of volunteering!" she shrieks furiously. Did she just read my mind? I know a thirteen year old shouldn't believe in reading minds, but that was just freaky. Actually, really, I shouldn't believe it at all. I'm very smart. Everyone who is not my sister says so. Although, I have heard girls my age giggling about how I'm cute, so maybe everyone says I'm smart just because I'm cute and they like me. I think I'm smart.

"Nuri. Out the door this instant and maybe you can eat something tonight. If you delay one instant-" I'm out the door before she can finish her sentence. I arrive at the Reaping breathless and wheezing, but on time. The escort tries to say a name but before she can, a girl with startling green eyes shouts "I volunteer!" The escort is surprised but even more so when the volunteer girl mimics her in walking and speech, not without talent either.

Before the escort can announce a boy's name, I dash to the stage and pant, "I volunteer too! I'm Nurturew, call me Nuri!" My district partner snickers. I have done this now, no turning back. My only consolation is a glimpse of my sister's hopping mad expression.


	5. District Five: Aaliyah and Charlie

"Believing something doesn't make it true; refusing to believe it doesn't make it false."

-Paul Little, Know Why You Believe

I keep forgetting to say this: **I DON'T OWN THE HUNGER GAMES! (or catching fire, or mockingjay, or things of that nature)**

District Five Reaping

Aaliyah Kingsport

Sleep. A luxury I do not have. Have not had since my mother was beaten to death by my father and he left. I remember screaming for my mother on that terrible day. My father hit me too. I still have the scars, scars that nobody sixteen years old should ever have attained, much less how old I was then.

On the subject of sleep, I have been staying up all night and into the morning hunting to try to feed my little siblings. Me too, but my life comes second. Little Carson who's just eight and sweet Marnie who is only six- they are the world to me. At least they're safe from the Reaping. For now. If they weren't safe, and one of them was reaped...my hatred of the Games and the Capitol would be increased a hundred-fold, and right now it's not small.

I hear a small scuffle in the bush behind me and fling a knife with unerring accuracy toward the sound. It abruptly stops. I check inside the bush to find a plump rabbit, its heart transfixed by the knife, the creature never to know what just happened. I take out the knife and stick it in my belt along with the rabbit. I can finally go home; I have this rabbit and two small birds. Not much under any circumstances but game has been scarce lately because the Capitol has been making us overuse the factories and they're polluting everything. Just another reason of how the Capitol has harmed all of Panem.

"Aaliyah," comes a voice from behind a tree.

"Ahh!" I yell, and drop to the ground. If a peacekeeper's discovered me, it's all over! I will be killed, and Carson and Marnie will starve.

"Chill out, girl. It's only me, Declan. Remember me? I'm your friend? I'm seventeen, not even Peacekeeper age?" He steps out from his hiding spot. I roll my eyes. "You scared me to death."

"Sorry. Come on, let's go check on your babies at home," he teases. I punch him and stick out my tongue, I know that's immature but what with having to fully provide for my siblings and me, it's stressful. I need to blow off steam somehow.

"They're not my babies, but let's go and deposit my stuff now so we can go to the Reaping," I tell him.

"Sure. Um, Aaliyah, are you scared? Of the Reaping today?" he asks as we walk to my home. I actually am terrified but I can easily prevent it from showing. "No," I lie. "I'm fine." I don't like to lie but I don't want to worry him. He believes me because I am good at hiding my emotions.

We arrive home and I am immediately tackled by my sister and brother.

"Guess what?" they squeal. "Auntie Trinity brought us-" begins Carson.

"-Two cupcakes!" finishes Marnie.

"Really?" I say in wonder. 'Auntie Trinity' is Declan's mother. She helps us out and takes care of us as best she can. It was amazing and kind of her to give us cupcakes, she's poor and can't really afford any luxuries.

"Time for the Reaping!" I say, trying to make my voice cheerful. We all go out the door and arrive at the Reaping just in time.

"Welcome, welcome everyone! Let's draw the names for our lucky tributes! Ladies will go first!"

I swear, that Capitol escort raises her voice for every sentence. She's so unbelievably annoying. She plucks out a piece of paper and trills, "Aaliyah Kingsport!"

I stand unmoving, emotionless for the moment, unable to believe what just happened. In the distance I can hear Trinity, Carson and Marnie crying. Declan is yelling bloody murder at the peacekeepers. I walk up to the platform, looking calm and composed so nobody will think I'm afraid.

"Aaliyah, I won't let you go!" gasps Declan, and he hurtles out of the crowd towards me. BANG! A bullet from a peacekeeper's gun flies towards him. He crumples to the ground.

Charlie Blue

"Charlie."

My mind is hazy and the world is blurred. I can't focus on anything properly. I make out two anxious faces in front of me. I think I'm on the ground.

"Charlie, mate. Wake up. Charlie, are you okay?"

"Is he breathing?" asks a girl in a high-pitched voice of terror. Not just any girl. Aym. My eyes fly open all the way and I fully see my friends Aym and Res.

"What happened?" I mumble groggily, trying to clear my head.

"Oh, thank goodness. We thought you might be seriously hurt. We saw a boy throw you into the wall and you hit it pretty hard. Res, the knucklehead over here, wanted to go beat up the other boy but I convinced him to not as he would also be knocked out." The words flow from Aym like water from a leaking pipe.

"All right, I need to go home and eat breakfast, guys. Thanks for helping. Bye," I turn to leave but Aym grabs my hand.

"Charlie, I've got to warn you. The bully will probably be lying in ambush for you. He might do something even worse this time."

I make a mock pouting face. "Awww! But why would he want to hurt me? I'm so cute and adorable!" I ruffle up my hazel hair and widen my brown eyes. Res snorts with laughter.

"If the bully catches you, you won't be so cute anymore. So if you want to get home, you'll have to sneak."

"Okay, thanks."

I tiptoe around a tree, cursing my weak build. I'm no good at stealth or athletics whatsoever. That's why I'm so scared of the Hunger Games. If I was reaped I would last about three seconds, because for one thing I'm only thirteen, and for another I can't stand to see death. When I saw a mouse caught by a cat and eaten right before my eyes, I fainted and didn't wake up for a day. My mother calls me her delicate little darling but my dad hates that I'm so fragile and he doesn't like me in general. It shames him that his son has soft and pale skin, soft pink lips, and skinny arms and legs. He calls me a weakling, a coward, a baby, a useless waste. It used to make me cry and actually still does a little bit. So no wonder I get bullied a lot.

"Charlie! There you are, darling. What's that? Why do you have a big bruise? Don't tell me you've been bullied again today." My mother hugs me and brings me inside. She gives me some breakfast and puts a cold cloth on my bruise to bring the swelling down.

"Stop babying the kid. He should learn to stand up for himself." That's my ever so supportive father. I bet he'd gladly trade me so the bully who just hurt me could be his son. "TIme for the Reaping. Let's go," he grunts.

We head there and make it in time for the escort to draw a slip for the girls and say "Aaliyah Kingsport!" A girl with long brown hair walks calmly to the stage, but then a boy I presume is her friend yells something and tries to get to her. A peacekeeper shoots him and pushes the girl up to the stage.

"Now for the boys!" squeaks the escort, clearly flustered. She takes out a paper and says, "Charlie Blue, come up here without any more disruptions!" What? Help! Help me!

I fall to my knees and sob until a peacekeeper drags me to the platform. I can see my mother calling hysterically for her son. I see my father..._smiling._

**Will somebody please review?**


	6. District Six: Bianca and Kyle

"We were designed to love and when we do, something good develops inside."

** -**Larry Crabb, Inside Out

**I don't own The Hunger Games or Catching Fire or Mockingjay. **

District Six Reaping

Bianca Calder

"Bianca." I roll out of bed and rub the sleepiness from my eyes. "What, Alexie?" Alexie is my sister, she's fourteen but stubborn as a toddler. I love her so much even though she sometimes bugs me. She peers at me anxiously. "Are you going to volunteer today? You don't have to just because Mom would be proud." "I'm not doing it just for that, Alexie. It's also for our great-great-grandfather. You know he won the games." She nods. It's true, many years ago my mother's great-grandfather won the Hunger Games, so my mom wants me to follow in his footsteps. But my dad doesn't. I am his favorite person in the world besides his wife, my mother Carmen. He's worried about me going in the games and he knows there wouldn't be any volunteers for me if I was Reaped because this is District Six, not a Career District. What he doesn't realize is that Iam actually going to volunteer.

I really don't want to volunteer at all. All I really want to do is look at my stars. I love stars. They are the most wonderful things in the world. Well, except for Kyle. He's my friend. He's been my friend since we were five, and we've dated since we were fifteen, two years ago. So I guess you would call him my boyfriend, but we aren't really the mushy, gooey type. We do love each other but we're not sappy. Alexie takes great pleasure in teasing me about my 'boyfriend'. I usually ignore her.

My mother sticks her head in the room. "Bianca and Alexandra. It's time to get ready, dears. Put on some clothes and eat your breakfast." I nod and slip on a blue dress and white sandals. I think the dress used to be hers. "Girls! Hurry up!" I hear her yell. We race to eat our food and dash to the square.

The woman from the Capitol smiles at the town. "Hello, District Six! It's a fine day we're having, isn't it? I will choose our lucky tributes now! Ladies first!" I brace myself to utter the words that will change my world forever. But what if I don't? Maybe I can just wait till next year or something, maybe I won't do this. "Alexandra Cald-" "I volunteer!" I shriek, all thoughts of postponing my volunteering are gone from my mind. My sister! My baby sister! I go up to the stage and announce in a hollow voice, "I'm Bianca Calder." The Capitol woman claps her hands.

I knew it was the most dangerous thing to myself I could ever have done to volunteer, but when the boy's name was drawn, I knew it would be even worse.

Killian "Kyle" Edwards

"No! Bianca! Nooo!" I bolt upright in bed, yelling my throat sore. I dreamed that Bianca just volunteered for the games. It's a nasty dream and always leaves me terrified.

Bianca is my friend. Girlfriend. I love her more than my own life and I would do anything to protect her. If she was put into the games, I don't know what I would do. Maybe try to storm the Capitol and rescue her. Trust me, I could do that for my Bianca.

"Kyle. Kyle, baby, did you have that dream again?" A light turns on in my room. My mother Lilian and my nineteen year old sister Milah are in the doorway. Their eyes are filled with care and concern. They sit on my bed and hold my hands. "I dreamed about Bianca again, guys. It always happens. What will I do? What can I do if she goes in the games? I couldn't take it. I just couldn't." I whisper.

"I don't know, Kyle. Come and have something to eat before the Reaping." That's my father. My brave, wonderful father. I put a black shirt, jeans, a jacket and boots, then do as he says. Though my mother's porridge is always nice, it's like sand in my mouth now.

When we arrive at the square, I see Bianca with her beautiful brown hair blowing out behind her. Ah, my Bianca. My darling Bianca. Be safe, please, my dear Bianca. The Capitol woman says an upbeat greeting to the district and takes out a paper. Oh, Bianca! Please don't be Bianca! Let it be anyone else!

"Alexandra Cald-" "I volunteer!" shrieks Bianca. _No...Bianca, how could you? Why did you have to volunteer for her? Don't you understand I shall die without you? _Bianca declares her name and the Capitol woman applauds. It has a hollow sound in the otherwise silent square. The wretched woman who has sentenced Bianca to death reaches for a boy's name. It's Killian Edwards. How strange. How cruel of fate to do this to us. How very, very cruel.

**Sorry this is so late. I've been pretty busy. I am going to move my tribute list to my profile. I still need a boy from District Nine, by the way. Anyone care to send one in? I think I'll put up a poll to see what character I've written so far is the most popular. That is, just choose the character you like the most so far.**

**Review, please, my readers!**


	7. District Seven: Alyssa and Jifere

"...But if you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

-Marilyn Monroe

**I ****don't own the Hunger Games trilogy, that's Suzanne Collins' job.**

District Seven Reaping

Alyssa Nightbloom

The moment I wake up and open my eyes, a mass of fabric falls on my face. I utter a muffled curse and shove it off. Do I have to wear this to the reaping? It's a white, longer than knee length dress. I hate dresses. "Dad. Do I have to wear this ridiculous dress?" I ask him in exasperation.

"You'll wear it and like it, young lady, or else you'll go to the Reaping wearing nothing," he bellows. "I'd almost rather do that," I mutter, but pull it on. I notice it's a very soft material, expensive material we could never buy, so Jack or Rachel and Mary must have stolen it.

It's a great family I have. There's Dad, who's always drunk and yells at everyone. There's Mom, who's too scared to do anything about it. There's Jack, the oldest brother, he's eighteen, and he likes to steal things. There's Rachel and Mary, the sixteen year old twins who charm their way into wealthy houses, then take the valuables. Then there's me, Alyssa, and I'm fifteen. I don't take after my thieving family whatsoever. The only resemblance I have to my father is the _lovely _vocabulary. I look like my mother, with brown wavy hair and hazel eyes. I'm thin, but that's because I don't eat much of the _stolen _food.

"All right, troops! Out the door!" Good old Dad. Drunk as always. We walk through town to the Reaping, passing many peacekeepers. Those rotten peacekeepers. I hate them so much. I hate the Capitol for basically enslaving us. I believe in _freedom, _but the Capitol wouldn't know the meaning of that word. A peacekeeper glares at me as I pass and I make an ugly face at him. He gets up with his gun at the ready, and I race to the square.

After I sign in with blood and settle into the fifteen year old section, the escort Deedee Lynx comes onto the stage to make her speech and draw the names. What a repulsive woman. Her majenta hair is in foot long spikes, her eyes are surgically implanted with rubies and there is gold dust covering her from head to toe. She makes her speech in a squealing voice, prattles on about how nice it is to be here, and yanks out a slip from the girls' ball. Don't be me, don't be me, don't even be Rachel or Mary because somehow I care for them. "Alyssa Nightbloom!"

"_What _the _he-_" "Now, now, Alyssa dear, I can't abide swearing. It isn't proper. Come up to the stage, my darling." _Dear? Darling? Does she think I'm five years old? _I take my place on the stage and glare mutinously at Deedee. She shrinks back. Come to think of it, I can be scary when needed, which could help in the arena. I'm fast, I can climb, I have a good aim. Why count myself out?

Jifere Asolki

"Jifere!" My brother's cry pierces through the air. "Nathan?" I find him curled into a ball on the floor, shuddering. It's his first reaping, my fourth one, as I'm fifteen and he's twelve. "It's okay, Nathan. It's okay." I hug him and his rhythmic rocking slows to a halt. "Are you sure I'll be okay, Jifere? Are you sure I won't be Reaped?" he whispers. "I'm sure. Now come downstairs and get some hot chocolate to cheer you up." He nods and follows me down.

We're rich. Exceedingly so, for the poor District Seven we live in. But it doesn't make me stuck-up and haughty. I don't act like a Capitol person, like some people think I would try to do. I have normal black hair and brown-green eyes, no dyes or anything. I'm tall naturally. I wasn't stretched out to be taller and I don't wear high heels. People can be so shallow minded when they're jealous of me being rich.

"Hey, Nathan, watch this," I say. I take a knife out of its holder and throw it into the air. It sails down toward my head. I hear Nathan let out a little _eep _of fright, spilling his hot chocolate in his lap. Then I grab the knife out of the air and start to juggle it. I take out two more knives and juggle them as well. Now Nathan is clapping and cheering for me. I let all the knives thunk into a thin piece of wood I'm holding. Taking an exaggerated bow, I announce, "Thank you for watching, Sir Nathan, and please come again!"

"Jifere?" Wonderful. It's my mother. Her hands fly up to her face when she sees the knives. "Jifere, honey, you must not play with knives! You'll cut your eye open!" "I'm sorry, Mother. I won't do it again," I say, and wink at Nathan. He giggles and spills more hot chocolate.

After he's cleaned off his shirt, Mother and Nathan and I leave for the Reaping. Father is a peacekeeper, so he's already there. We make it with ample time and see the escort Deedee draw a girl's name. Deedee looks weirder than ever. I wish she could be normal for once. She draws the name and it's Alyssa Nightbloom, the district drunk's daughter. Her family is full of thieves too. She starts to curse but Deedee cuts her off. She stalks to the stage and glares at the poor escort, who I almost feel sorry for right now, because that Alyssa looks scary.

Deedee scuttles away and takes out a boy's name. Oh, no, please don't be me or Nathan, please- "Um, how do you pronounce this?" she titters. My blood turns to ice. I probably have the oddest name in the district, so this has got to be me. "I think it's Jiffeer Asolkee!" She pronounced it horrendously but I know it's me. "Jifere!" "No, Nathan!" I yell. Nathan is trying to get to me. "I volun-" "No, you may not volunteer, Nathan. I'll be okay. Just go back." He goes back. I mount the stage to my doom.

**Excitement! Sorry for the long delay again, but I hope to have another chapter out very soon, possibly today. I am making the boy from District Nine myself, I unreserved the District Two tributes and someone submitted them, so all slots are filled. Please review! I don't update much because I barely have any reviews, so I don't know if anyone's reading this. Review!**


	8. Preview of the Games: The Mentors

"It hurts to let go, but sometimes it hurts more to hold on."

-Anonymous

**I'm sorry but I need a bit more time to write the next Reaping chapter. So here is a preview of the Games instead, in the mentors' room. The mentors are watching the Games.**

The room was completely silent, the mentors watching the television screen, not daring to blink. They had to be on the alert at all times, for they might have to send in a gift at any time to save their tribute's life. Some had already lost one or both of their tributes. But they still watched, waiting for something to happen.

"Why doesn't it ever show my tribute?" grumbled Topaz.

"Because he's _bor-ring,_ and he can't do _anything," _whispered Bran in a singsong.

Topaz rose to his feet, presumably to throttle the young mentor, but he was pulled back down by his fellow District One mentor. "Ignore her," sighed Aphrodite. "She's raving mad, you know."

"Yeah, like her tributes. A pyromaniac and a baby who doesn't realize he's got to _grow up_. He's in the Hunger Games! People die in them!" All the other mentors shushed him.

"If you keep yelling like that, we won't even be able to hear the cannons. Calm down," Cody scolded him. Topaz sank into his seat, fuming.

"Rotten District Three, thinks he's better than me," he muttered.

The screen changed and everyone leaned forward. "Oh! Foxy, your tribute and my tribute are so _cute _together!" cooed Lacy.

"My name is not Foxy. Why does everyone think I have to be called Foxy, when that tribute from the Seventy-fourth Games happened to be from my district? Can't I be known for myself, instead of that nightlock-eating redhead?" snapped Prysm.

"Be quiet, you old silly. Look, they're holding hands! They are so adorable. I just want to hug them!" Lacy squealed.

"How did this airhead ever win her Games?" said Topaz in exasperation.

"I'm not an airhead. If I was, I couldn't have won at all. And one of my tributes will win this time too," sniffed Lacy.

"Why do you all keep calling them 'your tribute', 'my tribute', 'her tributes'? They're not toys. You don't own them."

"Very true, Auroch," agreed Cody. "For a District Ten mentor, you are surprisingly wise. Although District Three is definitely the smartest." He dodged Auroch's strong fist with surprising agility for his age.

"Stop messing around, you two! The screen is changing again!" Aphrodite hissed.

"Now, there's my tribute," said Topaz contentedly. "Wait, what is he doing?"

"Ooo! New tribute pair, it's a new pair! How nice, I just love those arena romances." "Lacy, I'm warning you...stop acting like a Capitol girl when a gruesome kill is made in the arena. Tribute pairs are not fun. Got it?"Lacy shrunk down in her chair.

"Be nice, Topaz. Be nice to Lacy. Be nice, Topaz. Be nice to Lacy. Be nice, Topaz. Be-"

"Shut your mouth!" roared Topaz. "I'm sick and tired of you, _Bran. _I shall send my tributes a note telling them to be sure to kill yours. Your little pyromaniac and your clueless baby. They're as good as dead."

Bran's face turned ghostly pale. Her haunted eyes rested on Topaz's sneer. "You wouldn't," she breathed. Topaz nodded cockily. Bran's hands convulsed, and they reached up to her face. Then she grabbed her throat and shook it, wheezing, gasping. "_No!_" she screamed. "_No! No! No! Nooo!" _

Every other mentor in the room glared furiously at Topaz. "How could you do that to her? You know what she went through in her games four years ago. You may have just ruined her forever," growled Auroch. She tried to pull her hands away from her throat, Cody helping as well.

Aphrodite slapped Topaz across the face. "I'm ashamed to call you my fellow mentor."

"Ryan, run! No! Ryan, run! Please, Ryan. Please run, please. Ryan! He's right behind you! Ryan!" Bran rocked back and forth, her mind back in her arena, reliving the horrendous death of her district partner. "Ryan..." Her hands were finally pried away from her throat. Auroch and Cody fell back, panting.

"That poor girl," said Lacy sadly. "Her mind is broken. Her heart is broken. It would have been better for her if she had died in the arena."

A cannon boomed, jolting all eyes back onto the screen. "No, not now. Not now, when Bran is already in this state. Not _now! _Not her tribute!" cried Cody. "Noooo..." moaned Bran. "_Jakob..."_

**How did you like this chapter? Please review on the chapter in general, and please tell me what mentor or mentors you liked. I hope to have a Reaping chapter out soon. If my submitters of tributes review, I will know you haven't just submitted and walked away. Review!**


	9. District Eight: Flanella and Ashely

"I am intrigued by the smile upon your face, and the sadness within your eyes."

-Jeremy Aldana

District Eight Reaping

Flanella McCoy

I am not scared of the Reaping today. I am not frightened of the Reaping today. I am sad. I loved my sister Cilia very much, but she is dead and gone. All because of the Reaping, all because of the Hunger Games. She was Reaped, and I watched her, tried to be brave for her. I was brave. But she died. My bravery and loyalty wasn't enough.

"Flanella, honey, are you awake?" "I'm awake," I tell my dad. I roll out of my small bed and get dressed in a gray dress, black shoes and a frayed green hair ribbon. Even in the fabric district, we can't afford to buy nice clothes.

"Flanella..." Dad stands in the doorway. A single tear trickles down his cheek. "You look beautiful. Just like Cilia." He hugs me tightly, kisses my curly strawberry-blonde hair. "I love you, Flanella." "I love you too, Dad."

"You're fourteen, the same age Cilia was when she...was Reaped. I'm worried for you." I look at him solemnly with my dark brown eyes. "Don't be worried, Dad. I'm not worried," I lie through my teeth, smiling up at him. "All right. I'm sure you'll be fine. We have to go now. I'm sorry you can't have any breakfast. But you know we just can't afford more than one meal a day. We'll eat after we come home from the Reaping."

We can't afford anything. Multiple meals in a day, good clothes, a house that's bigger than two rooms. We manage, though, somehow. We are brave enough to withstand most things. Dad works multiple jobs every day, scraping up a penny here, a dollar there.

It's time for the Reaping. So we trudge up to the town square, while I hope and pray that I won't be Reaped. My dad would be all alone. Who knows what might happen to him. I am his precious little girl, his sweet daughter. We love each other so much. The reason I don't have a mom is because she disappeared. It's true. On my fifth birthday, Dad and I woke up to find a note that said, 'Goodbye, Ian. Goodbye, Flanella. Take care of each other. I have been called away. I'll always miss you.' We never saw her again.

I turn a corner and abruptly run into a peacekeeper. "Hey!" he yells angrily. He shoves me in the chest, and I trip and land hard on the ground. I cry out in pain. Why did he do that to me? That hurt a lot, and I'm definitely going to have a bruise.

Then I hear another yell. Dad has leaped onto the peacekeeper and is pummeling him in the face. "You leave my daughter alone, you-" He uses a word I've never heard before, which I probably don't want to know the meaning of.

The peacekeeper backs away, his nose bleeding, his eye swelling shut. I never knew my dad was that strong. "You just watch yourself," the furious man growls. "I'll make sure you never see your daughter again!" He beats a hasty retreat.

I look at Dad. "That doesn't sound good," I say. "Flanella, I'm so sorry. I think I've gotten you into trouble." I slip my hand into his. "Don't worry, Dad. Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise," I tell him, wishing it could be true.

We make it to the Reaping without any more problems. The escort Dayla Heap winks at the district. "Welcome, my dear people, to the Reaping! I can't wait to escort two fine children from here. So I will draw the lady's name first." She reaches into the ball and pulls out a slip. She glances to her side and nods at a peacekeeper. It's the peacekeeper who pushed me! Then, without looking at the paper, she says, "Flanella McCoy!"

I am doomed. I am going to die, just like Cilia did. Nothing can save me now.

Ashely "Ash" Downing

I hate the Capitol. I hate the Hunger Games. Why such a despicable event was created, I have no idea at all. My chances of going in are very, very large. I'm eighteen years old, so my name is in there countless times. I also have to take out tesserae, because my job of working in a factory gets me barely any money.

What my factory job has done that is good, however, is made my hands steady. If I ever had to use a spear, throwing knives, or a bow and arrows, my aim would be deadly. I would be far from helpless if I was Reaped. Not that I intend to be Reaped, of course. But if I was, my family wouldn't care a bit. They wouldn't even notice. They deserted me. So I work alone, always.

I put on my clothes that I made myself. A light blue shirt to match my ice-blue eyes, a brown waistcoat, brown trousers and black shoes. I am tall and thin, with black hair. I have noticed some girls talking about me in admiring voices. They most likely think I'm _cute. _How ridiculous, I'm never even going to talk to them. I work alone. I certainly don't need a _girlfriend. _I couldn't trust them. I find it very hard to trust anyone.

It is almost time for the Reaping. Though I'd much rather not go, I must.

If I was Reaped, I would be sure to win. My district is extremely poor. It is short on food, valuable things, useful things like medicine. Things that could save lives. If I became a victor, District Eight could have all that and more. We haven't had a victor for nineteen years. The last one was Lacy Forsithia. But how she won, I have no idea. She is an airhead, she giggles too much, she doesn't take anything seriously. If I won, I would be calm and helpful to my tributes I was supposed to mentor. I wouldn't be like Lacy whatsoever.

Now it really is time to go to the Reaping. So I set off to the village square. On my way there, I see a peacekeeper knock a young girl down. How cruel of him to hurt a child like that. He, however, will not be punished for it. Peacekeepers never are.

When I reach the village square, the escort comes onto the stage. Does she know how laughable she looks? Evidently not, as she is wearing a bright pink and green dress that only reaches her thighs.

She draws a name for the girls, and without looking at it says, "Flanella McCoy!" The girl who was knocked down by the peacekeeper walks shakily up to the stage. So, she gets in trouble instead of the peacekeeper. The Capitol is more than unfair. This is just inhumane.

The boy's name is drawn. The escort shouts, "Ashely Downing!"

Well, think of that. I am going into the Games after all. I'll be sure to win, no matter what it takes. I am coming out of the arena alive. I swear it.

**These are some awesome tributes! Please review, I'd like to see what you think of them. Review!**


	10. District Two: Thalia and Tristan

"Rules are for children. This is war, and in war the only crime is to lose."

-Joe Abercrombie, Last Argument of Kings

District Two Reaping

Thalia Bronx

SLICE!

"No, not like that, you nitwit!"

SLASH!

"I could see that from a mile away! When will you learn?"

_Thump._

I pin the trainer flat on his back, my halberd hovering an inch above his throat. "When will _you _learn, sweetie?" I smirk. "Never, ever, let your guard down against one of the Bronx children. Didn't you train my brother?"

He grumbles as I help him up, my long blonde hair drifting into his mouth. "_Phoo. _Don't call a grown man 'sweetie' when you're only fifteen. And of course I trained your brother, but he uses a morning star, which is far deadlier than your little halberd. You couldn't best me or him in a real fight if we were half asleep!"

My fist shoots out and knocks him down again, leaving him clutching his jaw and groaning. "Don't say that you or anyone else is better than I am. Ever. It's a lie." I hiss, my sapphire eyes snapping sparks at him. Then I stalk out of the Training Center, leaving him stunned on the floor.

I hate it when people say I'm not as good as they are at anything. It annoys me to no end. Those rude people always seem to end up injured. But when he said my brother was better, it was true. He is.

You could call him my hero, I guess. I look up to him and he protects me. I'm the wild, unruly one; he's the glue that holds me together. I do love him. Even though we're compared to each other all the time. It's "Oh, the Bronx brother is so handsome and talented" and "Oh, the Bronx sister is pretty but so stuck up" all the time.

Something else that irks me, however, is this: I'm supposed to wait until I'm eighteen to volunteer. Why must I wait? I'm good enough already, aren't I? I hate waiting!

As I am immersed in angry thoughts, I trip on the edge of my mint-green dress. I fall on my face and feel my nose crunch into the ground. _Ouch. _Jiminy, that hurt.

I get up and hold one of my black shoes against my nose to catch the blood as I stagger back toward the Training Center. Yes, I live there. Our parents had to be totally brainless and die for some reason ten years ago. I knew them for five years, so I don't even remember them enough to miss them. But maybe, just for once, it would be nice to have someone who cares about my broken nose. It's not the first time this has happened.

After I get back to the Training Center, endure some laughter about my nose, and get it cleaned up, it's time for the Reaping. I have an idea of what I want to do there. I'm not supposed to.

My perfect brother Tristan approaches me and twists his hands awkwardly. He wants to tell me something. Well, go tell the trainers, Tristan. I'm tired of you being perfect. He probably wants to tell me how he got the highest score of all the kids in the Training Center. I push past him and run to the Reaping.

I barely pay attention to the escort, called Trinity Davis, only getting ready to shout my forbidden words. They want me to wait but they can't stop me.

"I volunteer!"

Tristan Bronx

My first thought when I wake up is, _Oh, by Zeus and all his lightning, I've missed the Reaping. _ But then I realize that the light filling my room comes not from the sun, but from a desk light. I fell asleep on my desk. It's no wonder, really. I had been reviewing and writing down my strategies for the Cornucopia.

The other trainees at the Training Center call me a teacher's pet, say that I'm no good at actual fighting, but they're only jealous. I can out-fight them all. I just happen to be cautious and careful. Unlike my utterly impulsive little sister, Thalia. I must have told her _look before you leap, be sure of what you're doing before you do it, _but nooo, she never listens.

I rise from my seat and go to the mirror. I have no idea why girls fall all over me; I just happen to have sapphire blue eyes, shaggy brown hair, an alluring smile, and a powerfully built frame. Okay, maybe I do have an idea why. But I have no time for girlfriends, I have so much training to do. Night and day, all the time. Which is why I've been chosen to volunteer.

It's such a tremendous honor. I can't afford to be late and mess it up. So I hurriedly dress in a blue dress shirt, black slacks and yes, a tie. No, I'm not trying to look like a fop. I am not a fop. Only Thalia calls me that, because only Thalia could say that without experiencing a swift crack across the knuckles. She is all I have. I love her, very, very much. I must win and come home to her.

"Tristan," purrs a low voice from the doorway. I sigh. "Callida, what do you want?" I know exactly what she wants. A kiss from who she considers the most handsome boy in District Two. Even if I am, that doesn't mean I want girls kissing me left and right! Don't they know I need to _concentrate?_

"You look angelic in that outfit, Tristan. Come, don't be shy. Don't you want just a small kiss? A kiss...for luck?" she murmurs. "No. I have all the luck I need. Leave me alone."

I sweep out of my room, leaving a desolate Callida behind. Never mind. If I come home as Victor, I'll have plenty of time for girls. More than I need. And Callida is rather pretty, even if I'd never admit it to her.

I see Thalia storm towards the door. Her nose is covered in blood. What has she done _now?_ I approach her and twist my hands, suddenly unsure. I was going to tell her that I would volunteer, this being my last year, as I was eighteen years old, but she might fuss...As I am wondering, she scowls and pushes past me to the Reaping. I quickly follow.

As soon as the girl's name is about to be called, a voice shouts, "I volunteer!" Nothing unusual about this in District Two. The problem is, it wasn't Miranda Pannel, the thickset girl who was chosen to volunteer this year. It's Thalia.

_Thalia, Thalia, Thalia...you are such a bonehead...what can I do now? _The escort is reaching for the boy's name, if I don't volunteer, who knows what the Training Center will do to me? At least I can protect my bonehead sister, and make sure it's her and not me who comes out alive.

"I volunteer!"

**Yay! A new, pretty long (for me) chapter! If it's bad, I've been sick. So blame the germs at my brother's gymnastics I'm forced to tag along to, not me. Please review! I love my reviewers! REVIEW!**


	11. District Nine: Calida and Jakob

"Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."

-W .B. Yeats, The Collected Poems

District Nine Reaping

Calida Blitz

"Calida!"

I look up over my rough canvas bedspread at my nine year old sister, Amaranth. She appears positively terrified. "Mmmf. What do you want?"

"I have to perform the check, you know. We can't have an incident like last time. I mean, if you don't want me to, I won't, but you might- do it again!" The frightened thing is shaking in her shoes. I sigh. "Okay. Come on, I have to get ready."

She makes a thorough search for any matches, flints, or other firestarting materials, but doesn't find any. She then leaves, squeaking her apologies for any inconvenience the search may have caused me. Finally she's out, and I breathe a sigh of relief and close the door. She didn't find the matchbox woven into my hair.

I'm crazy. At least, according to my parents, who are in despair about their pyromaniac daughter. I set things on fire whenever possible. This has led to buildings, fields, and, sadly, a few people, being crisped. Only the fact that nobody else can prove it's the beautiful Blitz girl burning people has saved me from jail. It's not like I want to kill people, but if you hear a crackling sound like a fire coming near you, shouldn't you run away? I guess some people, like the poor little boy Teff, just haven't been quick enough. I really didn't mean for him to be burnt up. And now he has joined the voices in my head of everyone I've accidentally killed, who all whisper to me, telling me to do bad things, burn more people up.

I am thinking these thoughts while I brush my long, dark brown hair with pink, orange and red dyes in it. Then I pull on some jeans and my black boots. When I go to get a shirt, I notice two furtive pairs of eyes peeking in at me from around the doorframe. "FARRO! WHEATLEY!" I shriek, shielding my chest with my arms. "YOU LITTLE RATS! GET OUT!" I shove my rotten eleven year old brother and his friend out the door, then slam it after them. I _hate _them and their games they think are _so funny. _They are the ultimate pests. I'm thirteen, Farro's eleven, but he _still _thinks he can get away with _anything_.

I put on my one nice shirt, which I can wear today because it's Reaping day. The shirt is orange and has a flame design made out of gold, red and silver threads. It's perfect.

I hear Farro and Wheatley giggling outside. I sneak up and listen to their whispered conversation.

"She's so _beautiful_."

"I know. You're lucky to have her as a sister, have her around all the time."

"Yeah. Beautiful Calida. Those eyes of hers are almost black, she's so small and neat, she has a face like a heart. Too bad she's crazy."

I have heard enough. I fling open the door and glare down at them. "_You were saying?_"

They squeal and run away. Good riddance. I hope a peacekeeper catches them. They called me crazy. _Crazy. Crazy. _

_"You're crazy, Calida," _hisses Teff's ghost in my head.

_"You're crazy!"_

I run out of the house, ignoring my parents' calls. I run all the way to the Reaping, sobbing, hearing the voices in my head calling me crazy.

_Crazy! Crazy! You're crazy, Calida!_

_"_Calida Blitz!"

I hear another voice call my name. I look up and it's the Capitol woman Daisy O'Hara. Everyone is staring at me and inching away. I was just chosen for the Hunger Games, was I? I'm not going without a fight. Try to kill me, will they? I'll jolly well put up a battle of it. I'm going to burn them alive, every one of them! I'm going to set the arena on fire! I'm going to burn the whole bloody Capitol!

Jakob Caraway

"Jake, get up, you baby."

Oh! It's Mommy! I get up off the hard floor where I was sleeping and give her a smile and a big hug. "Good morning, Mommy. Did you sleep well?" She pushes me away.

"Save the love, Jake. Go outside and fetch firewood, and be quick about it, or you'll get a hiding."

"Okay, Mommy! I'll be super quick." I run out, thrilled to be able to help Mommy like this. She never asks Daddy, or Petey, or Ella, or Rose, or Sandy. I don't know why, but I'm so happy 'cause she calls me a good boy when I do it. When I wasn't strong enough, she'd slap me, and that hurt a lot, actually. I don't know _why, _but I know she didn't mean to hurt me. My mommy is the best mommy in the world.

I bring in the wood, panting a little. It's really heavy but I can do it, all by myself. "I did it, Mommy! See! Oh, good morning, Daddy and Petey and Ella and Rose and Sandy."

"Good boy, Jake," she says as she rushes to start a fire. She aims a rough pat at my tousled blonde hair. I beam at her. Petey kicks my foot. "Oh, Mommy, I'm such a good little boy," he mocks. "Look at the little goody-goody. Isn't he so _precious._" Ella snickers and elbows Rose, who shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah, see the baby trying to be a darling angel," she cooes.

"If you're such an angel, Jake, get me a cup of water. This instant," Sandy orders. I nod and bounce in the air. "Sure, Sandy, anything else?" When she fails to reply, I grab a mug and fill it with water from the barrel by the door. When I return, Petey lashes out at my arm, and I drop the mug, spilling the water over the dirt floor. He guffaws, Ella and Sandy joining him. "Get me another one! You spilled it, you baby!" snorts Sandy. Rose frowns. "Come on, guys, you don't have to be so mean to him. I'll get the water."

She brings Sandy her water. I hug Rose really tightly. "I love you, Rosalind. You're a great sister," I tell her. She smiles, but there is something strained about it. "Listen, sweetie. Has Daddy told you about the tesserae he brought you to get this year? Do you know what happened?" I shake my head cheerfully. "Nope. I know the Capitol let us have some grain and oil, just for me telling them I was twelve years old! But it's a secret that I'm really eleven." She nods and tries to say something. Her throat catches, and she hurriedly wipes away a tear. Then she leaves the room.

I don't know why she's so sad. Rosalind is a wonderful sister. I don't want her to be sad. She's thirteen, and she says she never cries anymore, but I know she does. Some nights she sits by me when she thinks I'm asleep, and she just cries. I heard her whispering about the 'Hunger Games'. I've never heard of them but I think they had something to do with me pretending to be twelve.

"Okay, it's time to go to the Reaping!" calls Daddy. "Daddy, what's that?" I ask excitedly. He cuffs me on the ear. "Be quiet, you pestering nuisance. Let's go."

We arrive at a big place filled with people. A weird looking lady with magenta hair and sparkly white clothes yells a name. What was it? Calda Blits? A pretty girl who looks very angry storms up to the stage with the strange lady. She's scary. I don't think I would want to be around her much.

Then the lady calls another name after looking at a white thing. That's called _reading. _Rose tried to teach me, but Daddy said, don't bother to, he'll just work in the fields when he's older and he doesn't need to read. The name the strange lady called was Jakob Caraway! That's me! I run up to her, smiling. "Hi! What am I supposed to do, ma'am?" She looks surprised. "You're going into the Hunger Games, dear. Are you really twelve?" "Yeah! I'm just small," I say brightly. Lying is wrong, but Daddy said I've got to.

Now I'm going into a game! I can see Rose weeping in the crowd. Why is she crying? I don't understand. Isn't the Hunger Games a game? I get to play a game! I think I'm going somewhere first, though. I heard a train. I hope I can say goodbye to Rose and everyone else first. I love you, Rose. I hope I come home soon.

**I'm glad this chapter is out, finally. I made Jakob. Don't you just feel sorry for the kid. Now, review please! Review!**


	12. District Ten: Promise and Rory

District Ten Reaping

"To the world you may be one person but to one person you may be the world."

-Anonymous

Promise Hawk

"…And the four children defeated the evil snow witch, with the help of the powerful, majestic lion. Then the two boys became kings and the two girls became queens, and they lived happily ever after. The end."

Rory looks up at me from his position on the threadbare orphanage rug. "That was a nice story, Promise. What happened to their other world? Did they go back?" he asks.

"Yes, but that's another story. No more now. I've read you two already." I actually would read him another, the tiny twelve year old adores stories, but I can't just let him think he can do whatever he likes.

"Aw, please?" he wheedles. "Just one more? Per-lease?"

I ruffle his shaggy black hair and kiss his cheek. "You're a silly little brother, yes you are, you cutie pie. I love you, Rory-kins." He smiles and hugs me.

"You're an awesome big sister, Promise-la. Emphasis on big. How are you about a foot taller than I when you're only fifteen?"

"It's a mystery. Now be off with you and get dressed. Do you want to go to the Reaping wearing your pajamas? I don't think so. Shoo!" I clap my hands and he runs behind the partition dividing our small room.

"I'm wearing my nice clothes, my tan pants, blue shirt and boots. How about you?" he calls over to me as I am getting dressed.

"A Capitol ball gown, obviously. No, my purple shirt and black pants. And jacket and black boots. No, really, a Capitol ball gown," I answer, rolling my eyes.

"Suuure. Toss me the brush, would you?" It's funny, he's the boy and needs to brush his longish hair, while I'm the girl with my black hair in a pixie cut, so I don't need to brush it. Rory and I also both have stunning purple eyes. It makes us, the poor parentless Hawk siblings, stand out in a crowd. And makes the boys line up outside my door in droves. No, just joking. In swarms! In the thousands! Just kidding. I'm a kidder. Promise is my kidder, Ma used to always say. Rory is my smarty-pants, Pa would say. Rory is a genius, pretty much. He's too modest to admit it.

"Okay, we already ate that bit of meat earlier this morning, so we're ready to go to the Reaping, Rory. Let's dash," I tell him. He grabs my hand and we barrel outside, almost knocking down my friend Banteng.

"Hey Promise!" he yells, and tries to keep up with us. "Want me to volunteer if Rory gets Reaped?" Rory turns paler than he already was, which is quite the miracle, and shakes his head at me. The kid is too shy to even talk to Banteng. "No, thanks, Ban. He'd manage," I say lightly.

I do so worry for Rory. His name is in absolutely once, because I took out all our tesserae we need. But if he was chosen, I couldn't volunteer, since I happen to be a girl instead of a boy. I'd rather be a boy. I am an utter tomboy, more boyish than Rory, who would rather read inside all day than play sports outside like I do. He's still somehow as fast as I am.

We reach the town square and sign in with blood. Rory goes to his spot in the crowd, his eyes never leaving mine. The very nice escort, Kika Timeo, comes onto the stage and smiles at the crowd. She's actually a quite kind person, for someone from the Capitol, which has made her popular here. Kika waves a hand studded with tiny gems. "Hello, District Ten! I'm glad to see you again! My, you've all grown since last year, haven't you? I see some new people too! Nice to meet you!" She is answered with a cheer. Like I said, popular. "Well, mustn't keep you waiting. I think I'll just draw the boy's name first, shall I?" She reaches in and draws out a slip. _Not Rory, not Rory, oh please, not Rory. _

"Rory Hawk!"

For a moment, the world goes black. I stumble and fall flat on my face. A sympathetic girl helps me up. "Your brother?" she asks. I barely hear her, and can't tear my eyes away from Rory. He is walking with small steps up to the stage, his face drawn and rigid. He is holding his fear back, I can see. This can't have happened, it _can't. _Rory is all I have. Our parents were trampled in a cattle stampede when Rory was only three, and I was six. Rory and I _need _each other. There is only one thing for me to do, and when the girl's name is drawn, I do it.

"I volunteer!"

I love you, Rory. I can't let you go in alone. I love you. _I love you._

Rory Hawk

Promise finishes the story about the evil queen who turned everyone to stone. I quite enjoyed it. Of course, I knew there would be a good ending, because Promise wouldn't read me anything she considers scary. She doesn't know that I secretly read a scary story I found in an ancient, pre-Panem box. It was a lot like the Hunger Games, since there was a fight to the death in it, but three people made it out instead of one. There were a lot of bloody details, but I wasn't scared. I didn't _really _have nightmares for weeks afterward.

"That was a nice story, Promise. What happened to their other world? Did they go back?" I ask. I know they did. I compared this story to similar stories while she was reading it, and the probability is that they did. She affirms this, and says I can't have any more stories, because I already had two. The other one was about three children who follow a boy to a magical land, full of mermaids and pirates and fairies. I would so like to go there with Promise, and be free from the Games.

We get ready for the Reaping, each of us wearing our nice clothes. When Promise comes out, she looks strikingly pretty. No wonder every boy at school whispers her name when she walks past. She doesn't know that, but I do. I pay attention. I notice things. Not that she doesn't, but I am a certified genius, according to an old test. I'm not conceited or anything! Don't get the wrong impression.

We race out the door, holding hands, and almost knock down Promise's friend Banteng. "Hey Promise! Want me to volunteer if Rory gets Reaped?" he yells. I feel my face grow cold. He can't. He must not. Nobody should die for me. I shake my head at Promise, willing her to tell him no. "No, thanks, Ban. He'd manage," Promise says with a forced smile. I wouldn't, I would certainly die at once, but he can't know that. Promise would volunteer for me if she could, if I was chosen, but she can't. I still wouldn't want her to. I love her.

We make it to the Reaping, my first one. The peacekeeper who takes my blood peers good naturedly down at me and messes up my hair. Why does everyone keep _doing _that? I just brushed it. "Good luck, little boy. May the odds be ever in your favor," she says. I nod profusely, hoping she accepts that as a yes, and hurry to the twelve year old section.

Kika Timeo, an escort that Promise has told me is very nice, walks to the microphone in her emerald-encrusted high heels. Nice or not, she dresses like any Capitol freak. "Hello, District Ten! I'm glad to see you again! My, you've all grown since last year, haven't you? I see some new people too! Nice to meet you! Well, mustn't keep you waiting. I think I'll just draw the boy's name first, shall I?" she announces, and her hand plummets into the ball. I see her slowly draw out a slip, slowly unfold it, and open it up. _Don't be me, please, I beg of you, Kika, don't choose me, if there is any justice in this world you won't choose a diminutive twelve year old boy._

"Rory Hawk!"

There is no justice in this world.

I plod up to the stage. This can't be. The odds were, were, I can't even think of how many other slips there were! I had one single slip. Just one. I still wasn't safe.

The girl's name is chosen, and I don't pay attention until I hear, "I volunteer!"

It was Promise. You brainless, clueless, nincompoop, you, Promise! Only one can survive! Wait...she's coming in to make sure it's me. Promise is going to die.

And the world...goes...black...

**Awww. I love these tributes, so review for their sake! And the sake of this really long chapter! If anyone can recognize the three stories I described, or just one or two, leave them in the review. Only two more reapings! Yay! Please review!**


	13. District Eleven: Karlina, Phoenix, Orcha

"Ever since you left,

I haven't been warm.

I haven't been able to look at pictures of you.

I haven't been able to truly smile.

Ever since you left,

My heart has been broken

and nobody is able to repair it."

-Anonymous

District Eleven Reaping

Karlina Pareith

"Kar!"

"Lina!"

"Wake up or die!"

"Eep!" I squeak, and fall out of my hammock. My twin nine year old brothers, Nigel and Clemence, giggle and bounce around. "We scared you, we scared you, we did. We scared you, we scared you, we did," they chant, giggling all the while. Why do they always pick on me? Why does everyone always pick on me? It's not fair.

I feel the familiar prickling sensation in my eyes. A moment later, tears are pouring out. I cry like a toddler, sprawled on the hard packed dirt floor. Nigel and Clemence grin identical evil grins and rub their hands together. "Awww, Karwina is cwying. Does she need a nap?" Nigel croons in a babyish voice. Clemence snickers and yanks a lock of my long auburn hair. "Did baby have an owie?" he says mockingly. I bawl still harder, stumbling out of the room and into our only other room. Mother and Father are there. They glance sharply at me. "Really, Karlina? Crying again? You've got to get a hold of yourself," Mother says. "Yes. She absolutely does. You're seventeen years old, Karlina! You have to stop acting like a baby all the time!" snaps Father.

See? Everyone picks on me! Mother and Father love Nigel and Clemence more than they love me. Nobody loves me.

I wipe the tears out of my dark green eyes and return to the other room. Nigel and Clemence are ripping the arms off of my only toy, a ragdoll named Pamela. "You see, Karlina," explains Nigel earnestly, as I pull my hair into a messy bun, "Your dolly needed an operation. She was sick." "Very sick," Clemence chimes in. "As sick as the fact that you, a girl who is seventeen, bawl your eyes out on a regular basis!" I don't respond. I'll just stitch the arms back onto Pamela when I come home from the Reaping. If I come home. Father and Mother have made me take out more tesserae than necessary, claiming we all will get plenty of food from it and never be hungry. Funny how I still am underfed, listening to my stomach growl all night in the hammock until Nigel and Clemence yell at me to be quiet.

It's almost time to go. I don't need to prepare in any other way. I slept in my only clothes, a ragged green flared dress, off-white knee high socks and black shoes. I slept in my shoes because I was so exhausted from working in the fields, I just collapsed into the hammock and fell asleep.

I wish I could run away.

I'd make it far, too. I can survive well outside, since I spend as little time as possible in this two-room shack of disdainment. Nobody likes me indoors, but I have a secret. I have friends outside. I planted a ring of sunflowers far from our house some years ago, and now they've grown into a tall, beautiful grove. I like to go in there, where my friends are. I bring Pamela. Butterflies land on her. Curious birds and squirrels examine me from the tops of the sunflowers. These are my friends, my only friends.

We arrive at the Reaping and I sign in. I'm the only one who has to. Nigel and Clemence make ugly faces at me as they retreat to the safety of the observing crowd. My eyes threaten to water, but I will not cry. I won't. The escort, Tribidy Hycinthus, beams with gleaming white teeth at the frightened children who are in danger of being chosen. "Hello, District Eleven! What a fine, fine day it is! I just can't wait! Now I'll draw the girl's name, may the odds be ever in her favor!" He chuckles as if that was a hilarious joke. Zipping over to the ball, he snatches out a piece of paper and unfolds it at immense speed. Well, he's certainly in a hurry.

He unfolds it, clears his throat and says happily, "Let's welcome dear little Karlina Pareith!"

My name...my name.

My eyes overflow and I'm sobbing as I stumble up to where Tribidy is waiting and looking a little concerned. I can see Nigel and Clemence laughing their heads off, and my parents not stopping them.

I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die...

Phoenix Florence

"Oh, Phoenix dear, did you sleep well?"

I wake up to my anxious mother hovering over me. She holds out a platter of hot muffins with butter melting on top, and a tall glass of orange juice. "I brought you some breakfast, honey. No, no, don't get up! I'll just bring a napkin, too. I'll be right back." She plants a kiss on my long brown hair and hurries away. Honestly. I am not an invalid at all, no matter how much she makes of me. I am perfectly fine. But she never listens.

I start eating the muffins and sipping the orange juice. The muffins are overflowing with creamy chocolate. I don't know where she gets this stuff, I really don't. By the time she comes back with a napkin and brushes the crumbs away from my mouth for me, (honestly!) I have eaten all of them. "You liked them?" she cooes. "I'm so glad! Now, I'll just get you you your white buttoned shirt and brown pants."

See, the reason she treats me like this is because I was in an accident two years ago. I stepped on the end of a scythe, and it flipped up and hit my head. It took stitches and a large, expensive operation to save my life. But the doctors discovered that a chip of my skull had been knocked inward, next to my brain. If it pierces my brain, I'll die. I could die at any moment, if the chip shifts. Any breath could be my last. So my mother acts like I am in terrible pain every moment, and currently dying. Still, I'm eighteen for heaven's sake, she doesn't need to do this. I am quite capable.

"Here, sweetie, I got you the clothes, now you put them on. I'll be right outside the door if you need anything." It's taken me ages to convince her to let me put my own clothes on, believe me. She pats my hand and goes outside to wait.

I get out of bed, my tall frame almost causing my head to touch the low ceiling. After I change into the clothes, I leave the room, almost bumping into my mother, who is still waiting. "You're done? Okay, darling. Your father is outside with the cart."

After my father helps me up into the cart, my mother comes up to me. She looks deep into my dark, brown-black eyes, her nose nearly touching mine. "Phoenix. I want you to promise me that you will not volunteer, for anyone, no matter what happens. Not even your little friend Larkspur. Promise?" I am about to protest that Lark is only twelve years old, that he is about the size of a five year old, that I am strong and my shoulders are broad, that I must volunteer for him if he gets Reaped, but the look in her eyes stops me. She needs me. She loves me. She dotes on me. I can't leave her. So I promise.

When we reach the town square, and I am helped out, mother almost has a panic attack when the peacekeeper tries to take my blood. "You can't do that! You'll hurt my son!" she shrieks. I finally show her I'm not dead, she calms down a little bit, and I take my place with the eighteen year olds. I see Larkspur across the square, and we exchange terse winks. Tribidy Hycinthus, the nutty escort, smiles at the crowd. "Hello, District Eleven! What a fine, fine day it is! I just can't wait! Now I'll draw the girl's name, may the odds be ever in her favor! Let's welcome dear little Karlina Pareith!" I see a girl who looks seventeen years old across from me, whose mouth drops open in shock. Then she bursts into noisy tears and staggers up to the stage. Tribidy gives her a pat on the head and then draws a boy's name.

"Phoenix Florence!"

No. No, no, no, no, how is this possible.

I walk calmly up to join the weeping Karlina Pareith, ignoring my parents' panicked cries. It's strange, I've just been Reaped and sentenced to death, but all I can think of is, I'm free.

Orcha Mellow

"Hey, Pixie. Get up quick, you want your snores to bring a nest of peacekeepers down on us?"

I rub my deep brown eyes sleepily and smile at Brute. "Hey, Aster. Is the Tree fine? Yes? Then give me a few minutes to wake up." "Don't call me Aster. It's Brute. We're in the Hanging Tree and if we don't want the peacekeepers to hear us and know who we are, we use code names. Code names, get it, Pixie?" He scowls but I know he doesn't mean it, the big guy has a heart of gold.

So, all this, code names and the Hanging Tree and whatnot, it's because we're runaways. Brute was the first to inhabit this natural underground cavern. He invites any other kids who have broken the law or run away, like me, because of my despicable parents who disowned me. Brute's called Brute because he's, well, huge. I'm called Pixie because I'm small, skinny, and look twelve instead of fourteen.

I emerge from my nest of stolen clothes where I sleep. The kids who have already broken the law have no problem with stealing more stuff, the peacekeepers would kill them anyway. Brute is still standing in my little curtained corner of the cavern. "Really, Brute?" I laugh. "Give a girl some privacy. I need to change, unless you want me in my nightgown at the Reaping." His face reddens. "Oh, sorry, sorry, just worried about the Games, I guess I forgot to leave. Sorry, I'll go." He leaves and I change into some brown pants and a shirt too large for me. Well, our thieves don't have time to pick and choose, do they? Still, I feel conspicuous as I walk into the main room.

"Hello, Pixie!" says Beauty merrily. Her real name is Amaryllis, but the nickname fits her better. She is a marvel, as if one couldn't tell by seeing Brute stutter and stammer if he is within ten feet of her. "Oh, h-hi, Pixie," whispers Quiver, really called Lisianthus. I don't understand why he acts this way around me, that's what Brute and Nimble (one of our thieves) do around Beauty. "Can I get you some water?" he asks, and rushes to the heavy stone set over our small well. He strains to lift it, but fails. I can't help smiling a little as I pick it up with one hand, and set it down by his foot. "Thanks, Pixie," he says quietly, and gives me a full cup from the well. "Oh, thanks. You're really nice," I tell him warmly. His whole face lights up, and a big smile breaks out. He stammers appreciation until I think he's never going to stop.

It is time to go to the Reaping. Time for two childrens' impending doom. We rarely win, and have only two victors in total, Heather and King. Who haven't helped us get any more victors since Heather won, sixteen years ago. Brute, Beauty, Quiver, Nimble and I all put disguises on, and head to the square. We sign in, and when we take our places, I think I see my sister Iris from my old family in the crowd. I turn away in disgust.

Libidy Hycinthus says something I don't bother to listen to, then draws a girl's name. But I realize...my sister is staring maliciously at me. She sees me and recognizes me. She'll tell our parents, and they'll catch me, if only to turn me over to the peacekeepers themselves. She's ratted me out. What do I do? The peacekeepers, they could punish me in any way-

"Let's welcome dear little Karlina Pareith!" An older girl comes crying out of the crowd.

I could volunteer.

That's what I'll do.

I push through the crowd, but I fall on my face and it's too late, Tribidy has drawn a boy's name, Phoenix Florence, not that I care. Because I've lost my chance, it's too late, Iris will have me caught.

No she won't.

I'll go myself. I sneak through the hubbub to the justice building. I'll just go through into the train, and surely they'll let me replace Karlina. Still, I hope Iris didn't see me come up here. I hope nobody did. Because I wouldn't have time to say goodbye.

Wow! That was an incredibly long chapter, but what do you expect from three peoples' POVs. Anyway, I would love some reviews. Please do, for Karlina and Phoenix and Orcha! Review!


	14. District Twelve: Ember and Sam

"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you."

-A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

District Twelve Reaping

Ember Burns

"Good morning, Ember!"

"Hello, Ember!"

"Hi, Ember!"

"Ember."

My four little sisters' voices wake me from a wonderful dream about flying away with mockingjays, which are plentiful around here. Now I can't take comfort in the dream, and must face the Reaping. But I could never be mad at them for that.

I sweep up my youngest sister, Chandra, who is three years old, and tickle her. "Good morning, giggle bug! Uh-oh, watch out, it's the tickle monster!" She squeals in laughter and wriggles away. I grab the next sister, Blaise, who is six. "Hello, sunshine! Want to fly away today?" She jumps onto my bed, and I snatch up eight year old Firee. "I've got you, little princess! I've got you now!" She laughs and squirms out of my arms, leaving Phoenix, twelve years old, who is sitting motionlessly on the floor. I approach her cautiously, and softly touch her black hair that is exactly like mine. "Hello, Phoenix. Did the sun come up okay today?" I always have to ask her that, every morning, or she'll sprawl out on the floor and cry all day. She doesn't respond, but stares at me for a moment, then leaves the room.

I sigh and help my other sisters get dressed, before putting on my own white shirt and black skirt. "Why is Phoenix sad again?" asks Chandra in her high pitched little voice, as I pull her dress over her head. "She isn't just sad, giggle bug. Phoenix has a condition called autism. She's just a bit different from you," I tell her. "Don't tell her that, though. Just leave her alone, and she'll be fine."

I love my sisters and my mom. I would do anything at all for them. I would without a doubt volunteer for Phoenix if she was Reaped today, even though I'm only fifteen. Mom says I'm braver than a lion and wiser than an owl, and that I can do anything. I wish this were true, but it can't be. If I could do anything, have anything in the world, have just one wish granted, it would be for Phoenix to be better. She never smiles, rarely talks. There is nothing anyone can do.

"Good, morning, everyone!"

My mom is here, balancing a tray with six bowls of porridge on it. Phoenix is lurking behind her. Mom is here, and she can always brighten our world. She sweeps by each of us, handing out bowls and friendly greetings. "Oh, Chandra, you're getting so big!" "Blaise, you sweetie, you look like an angel." "Firee, you're prettier than ever today." Then, "Ember, dear. You are such a good little mother to them all. Give me a kiss." Our identical blue eyes meet as I peck her on the cheek. She smells like cinnamon and cream. I feel her trembling as I enfold her in a hug. "Oh, Ember. I am so worried about you and Phoenix today. I hope you two will be safe. I love you," she whispers. "I love you too, Mom," I tell her. I do. I love all of them, sisters and Mom and Dad, who is in jail for trying to stop a peacekeeper from knocking down a little boy. I love my family. I could never live without them.

When we all finish our porridge, we set off to the Reaping. I take turns carrying Firee, Blaise and Chandra, but Mom carries Phoenix the whole way. We sign in, Phoenix barely flinching at the prick. When we go to our places, the escort arrives. What a ridiculous thing. His name is Bovar Bimmerly, but everyone in the district calls him Bowtie Blimp. He taps the microphone with a ring bedecked hand. "Hello, hello!" he says into it, straightening his absurd green bowtie. "I am just so excited to see all these dear little children! And two of them to have the honor of competing in the Games! Let's choose a girl now." He pats his round belly and plucks a paper out. What if it's me? Or Phoenix? Please, please, please don't be-

"Ember Burns!"

-me. It was. It just had to be me, a girl who would never hurt a fly. A girl whose sixteenth birthday is in a few days. I slowly walk up to Bovar. I hear Mom and my sisters, even Phoenix, crying for me. I must win. I must change from a girl who would never hurt a fly, to a girl who will do anything to survive. I'll come home for them. I'll come home for them all.

Sam McEowan

"Thirty."

"Twenty."

"I'll make it twenty five."

"Take it down to twenty three."

"Don't push your luck, boy."

"Twenty four."

The shopkeeper grins. "Young man, with anyone else, I'd tell them to pay thirty or leave, but you're the most amusement and best bargainer I've had in a while. I'll let it be twenty coins, just this once." "Thank you, sir." I smile. What had Jeffrey called me? 'Smooth as a snake, sharp as a knife'? Seems like he was right.

I thank the man again, pay twenty coins for the meat and cheese, and return home, whistling. Mum, Dad, Linda and Jeffrey will be pleased as can be when I come home with the food, and extra coins.

"Sam! Sam!"

Good night, it's Linda coming to find me already. Why does she think I can't take care of myself? I'm sixteen, for heaven's sake. "Hey, Linda," I call. "I've got the food and extra coins because-oooff!" Linda crashes into me, and I fall to the ground, my blonde hair splattered with mud. But I must catch the food! The meat falls into one of my outstretched hands, the cheese into the other. I catch the coins in my mouth, nasty, that, I'll have to rinse thoroughly, but I caught everything. I stand up, bow, and announce to everyone around me, "Yes, I am Sam McEowan, the amazing, the brown-eyed...wow, that was random. Anyway, tada!"

Linda blushes. "Sorry, Sam the amazing. I was just coming to see if you were almost done. Because you said you composed another poem in honor of...Becky. Let's go home and have you recite it."

I follow her back quietly. Poor Becky. Becky was my friend, but she died in the Games just last year. I have been coming up with poems for her ever since.

When we arrive at our cozy little shack, I stand up and solemnly recite the poem.

"Your eyes were emeralds a-gleam, dear,

Your mouth like a ruby red.

Your skin was as white as cream, dear,

But alas, oh alas, you are dead.

Your hair was as black as night, dear,

Your hands were as soft as velvet.

Your soul was so pure and so white, dear,

Forever will live on your spirit."

Mum, Dad, Linda and Jeffrey applaud loudly, and I hide my face so they can't see it turn red. I have always been of the poetic persuasion. I love coming up with poems and songs. "That was beautiful," says Mum, and wipes away a tear. "Now we have to go to the Reaping. I so hope none of you will be picked, my darlings."

When we reach the square and sign in, I can't resist a snort at the sight of Bowtie Blimp. He is wearing an orange waistcoat, green trousers, and a magenta top hat. Good night!

He draws a girl's name, and I can't help feeling sorry for 'Ember Burns', though I am glad it wasn't big sister Linda. Then the Blimp draws a boy's name. For the love of Becky, don't let it be me, please, or Jeffrey. And it is...

"Sam McEowan!"

Darn it! First Becky, now me. I'm going to die, aren't I? The Blimp asks me, "Anything to say to Panem, little boy?"

"Yes," I say as brightly as I can. "One, I'm not a little boy. Two, I wish good luck to all the ladies."

I mean it.

Woo-hoo! Oh yeah! Splendifico, we're done with the Reapings at long last! Three chapters in two days, pant, pant. By the way, I came up with the poem Sam recited, all by myself. Do you like it? And the characters? I'm leaving the poll up for one more week. Please, please review!


	15. Chariot Rides

"...But they were quite right, you know; for people  
must always follow the fashion, even if it be  
spoon-bonnets."

-Charles Kingsley, The Water-Babies

Chariot Rides

Marcus Nosa, District One (16)

"Leave my eyebrows alone, will you?" I snap. I am just about fed up with this bird brain prep group. I am decidedly uncomfortable about not wearing anything, and in a bit of pain because they're pulling out my eyebrows, for gosh sakes.

"But Mark," the one called Bonn cooes, "It's just that you're so furry! And eyebrows aren't in fashion! See?" He inclines his head towards me, and I see: no eyebrows. "Don't call me Mark! And I don't care about the fashion!" I yell, and swipe his tray covered in tweezers and strange pastes away from him. It clatters to the ground, spilling its contents everywhere. My prep team stares at me in shock. Then they inch away from me, as if I am a wild beast. "We'll just go get Minka," Bonn squeaks. "No need, I'm already here, Bonn, so leave," says a quiet, hissing voice, one that I would imagine a snake using if it could speak.

My stylist glides, literally glides into the room, using anti gravity shoes. Just another weird Capitol thing. She shoos the prep team away and looks at me carefully. "What's this from, Marcus?" she asks, pointing to the scar running from my right shoulder to my left hip. I immediately like her more than the others, since she actually used my name. "It's from- training," I cautiously answer, not knowing how much she knows about Career training. She seems satisfied, and looks me over again, making me feel quite uncomfortable. "Tell me, Marcus," she suddenly says. "I noticed you had a neat little gray fedora at your Reaping. Would you like a fedora in the chariot rides?" "Er, I guess," I say, getting a little annoyed. She's the stylist, she's supposed to design everything, I really don't care about clothes or style.

"I thought so." She takes a bag off her shoulder and removes from it a handsome suit covered in gold, diamonds and rubies, and a fedora encrusted with the same. "Of course all the gold and whatnot is for District One's luxury. If you didn't want the fedora, we just wouldn't have used it."

After I put everything on, and grumble my appreciation (because it is rather interesting), the door slides open and in comes Miri Ismail-Pignati with her stylist and prep team. My goodness. Miri is a knockout. Her hair is curled, the dyed red ends coming to rest lightly on her shoulders, and she is crowned with a gold and ruby tiara. She is wearing a strapless, sparkling gold and silver dress, and golden high heels. I can't take my eyes off her.

She notices and raises an elegant eyebrow. "Hey! Why'd you get to keep the eyebrows! These bird brains here mangled mine!" I say indignantly. She smirks. "Girl privileges." I shake my head but do not argue, how could I argue with a girl who looks like a princess.

Our stylists herd us toward the jeweled chariot pulled by snow white horses. I catch a glimpse of District Two, obviously siblings, who are wearing bronze armor like ancient Greek gods. The girl looks upset, and the boy looks like he's trying to calm her down. Before our chariot takes off, our stylists motion for us to not hold hands, so we'll look tough and not like a romance or something, like Katniss and Peeta all those years ago. They both died, a boy from District Two called Cato won that year. Pity I can't hold her hand, I think, seeing Miri's smooth white hand with the fingernails painted gold. Of course I'm not falling for her or anything! It's just...she's so, so pretty.

Erica Jones, District Three (16)

My stylist, Karkarus, peers into my eyes bemusedly. "But I do not understand it at all, dear. They are yellow! Electric yellow, I would say!" he gasps.

"I know," I mutter. Does everyone need to make a big deal about it? I mean, they are yellow, but does that have to make people call me 'freak' and 'scary' and 'monster'? I wish someone could judge me for myself and not my eyes.

"Well, let's play up these eyes, shall we? It is your distinguishing quality. We want everyone to notice them, and see how special they are! How do you like that, Erica?" Karkarus beams, acting as if that's the best thing in the world, when I would rather him draw attention away from my eyes. Never mind. I mumble a 'thanks', and he leaves the room for a few minutes to fetch my outfit. It's probably going to be covered in gears or something for District Three, technology. I bet I won't like it. Actually I won't even be able to see it, as the prep team took away my glasses! I hope I can have them back after the chariot rides, as otherwise I'll be practically blind.

I fidget while I am waiting for Karkarus to come back. One of the prep team, called Jinni, I believe, added silver extensions to my plain brown hair. That part looks nice, but it's making my neck itch. Darn it, I wish I could just put my old red dress on and wear it in the chariot! If they want outfits that represent our districts, why can't we wear our Reaping clothes? 'Red knee length dress; worn by Erica Jones, District Three, in the 250th Hunger Games'. What if they saved our clothes we brought and put them on display? The thought makes me smile for some reason.

"Oh, good, you're happy!" Of course, Karkarus had to come in right then with the outfit in a bag. This wipes the smile from my face. Oblivious, he pulls out the shining clothes. "You like?" he asks excitedly. I have to admit, it is cool. It is a skintight silver suit with plumes of gray smoke-like cotton balls coming out of the shoulders, and multi-colored lights blinking all over. "Yes. I like it," I say, and mean it. He burbles happily about how many sponsors I could get from this as he helps me into it. As I turn to leave, Karkarus grabs my arm. "Wait a second! Your eyes." He takes a tube of black eyeliner from a nearby tray, and expertly brushes around my eyes with it. "Look," he tells me, and holds a pocket mirror up to my face. I almost gasp. Karkarus, with a little black outlining, has made my yellow eyes nearly glow. I do not look like weak, mousy Erica Jones anymore. I look like a threat, I look dangerous. I will stand out.

Karkarus smiles and gestures toward the door. "Your chariot awaits." Impulsively, before I leave, I give him a small hug. "Thank you, Karkarus." His face lights up, and he waves to me as I run to the chariot.

Narui Chahyne is already there, and he looks miserable. "My stylist and prep team went on and on about my dark skin. They said District Three always has pale skin, and I look like a mutation," he moans. I laugh. "My team did that about my 'Ooo, scary! Electric yellow eyes!' too, only Karkarus made the eyes look awesome," I say, trying to cheer him up. It doesn't work. "Oh, it's funny, is it? So you're better than I am? Yours turned into an advantage, and mine is just useless?" he snaps. My mouth drops open. "What? No! I meant-" "Leave me alone," he says and turns his back on me.

I am upset at my blunder, and turn to see the District Four tributes, who I have to squint to see, being glasses-less. The girl has a blue-green top and a long skirt the same color. It looks quite pretty, set off by her green eyes. The boy is shorter and kind of cute, and is wearing the same thing, only with a shirt and shorts, and he has a net draped over his shoulder. Our chariot lurches forward, and the Capitol sees us for the first time.

Killian Edwards, District Six (18)

"You know, you're a handsome boy, Kyle," says Fayona quietly, brushing my black hair behind my ears. Argh, I hate all of this. The prep team pulled out my eyebrows and other 'unnecessary' hair, they scrubbed my skin until I thought it would come off, they declared my blue eyes not bright enough and inserted crystal blue contacts. I push Fayona away. "Come on, you're the stylist," I say. "Can I have my outfit now?" She sniffs, evidently insulted. "Nobody appreciates me enough," she says indignantly. "Do you realize how hard it is to come up with a good chariot ride costume for District Six? They're transportation, honestly! Even when I have a nice looking tribute, I can never give them a neat outfit." I rack my brains for something I could wear. I really don't want to parade in nothing at all. "How about-" I begin, but she cuts me off. "No, no, no! I already have something, silly. It's just not very good. Wait here."

She dashes off and I imagine the boring things she could have for me. I wonder what Bianca will wear? There's no way she isn't going to look nice, no matter what she wears, even if her outfit is a bunch of tires. Bianca, poor Bianca. She volunteered for her sister, the sweet thing. One of us will certainly die. I want to make sure it's not her.

Fayona comes back in, and it turns out to be not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. She is carrying an old fashioned, pre-panem pilot's outfit. There are some goggles, a long scarf, a brown bomber jacket, and obviously trousers. "Oh, good," I say, relieved. "Is Bianca wearing an outfit like this too?" "I believe so," she tells me as she helps me dress. I'm glad Bianca will have a nice outfit too.

Fayona points me toward the door. "You're done, Kyle. That way, please, your chariot needs to leave soon," she says briskly. I nod and leave. Bianca is waiting, her long, wavy brown hair tucked into a small cap. "Hi, Kyle," she whispers. I take her cold hand in mine. "Let's go," I say.

We mount our chariot, which has airplane wings, and look around us before it leaves. We spot the District Five chariot leaving before ours. The boy, who looks only about thirteen years old, is wearing a black suit with tiny flashes of yellow, for the electric power of District Five, and a yellow tie. The girl, who is older, is wearing the same thing, except it's a dress. She looks bored, like she doesn't care or realize she's in the games. How odd. Behind us is District Seven. The girl is wearing a traditional tree unitard with a circlet of vines on her head, and so is the boy. Farther behind us is District Eight, and the pretty girl with curly blonde hair over there is wearing a tunic made of many different fabrics, and black leggings and boots. The older boy, who looks quite intimidating, is wearing pretty much the same thing, with every color of the rainbow mixing in his tunic.

Our chariot starts moving, and I clutch Bianca's hand. She clutches mine even harder, clinging as though she will fall off the edge of the world if she lets go.

Orcha Mellow, District Eleven (14)

"Well, it's our extra little tribute, isn't it."

My stylist Tarvyn crosses his arms and glares at me. "You do realize that since you snuck onto the train and were discovered while it was already going toward the Capitol, you had to be an additional tribute instead of replacing Karlina. And I suddenly had to be your stylist, when I had been going to relax and just watch the games for once."

"I'm sorry, the train moves so quickly I couldn't tell it had left," I sigh, tired of explaining this to everyone. It's worse for me than anyone else, a peacekeeper was patrolling the Justice Building, so I didn't even have time to say goodbye to anyone except Quiver. He snuck in, gave me a key on a rope cord as my token, and had to leave. He was so brave, to risk his life to bring me a token. It is my symbol now. I am holding it right now, and will wear it with everything.

"ORCHA!"

I jump. Apparently Tarvyn had been talking to me. "I'm sorry, what?" I say meekly. He sniffs in disgust. "I said, little girl, that you are going to wear this." He pulls a pale green dress covered with actual flowers, from roses to lavenders. Typical for District Eleven, but I like it. I say nothing, but let him dress me in it. He surveys me as if I am a statue he just sculpted, then sets a wreath of vines and flowers on my head. This is getting very nice. "There. Now, you are quite pretty, in a fairy-like way," he admits. "So I am just going to do this." He presses a small button on the wreath, and the whole thing lights up. I see myself in a mirror, and stare in wonder. The largest rose on the front of the wreath appears to have a fairy dancing inside it, lit by the soft glow. This is simply beautiful.

I tuck my token under the top of the dress, and thank Tarvyn profusely. He waves me away as if I am an irritating fly. Never mind, I'm wearing such amazing clothes, it doesn't bother me much.

I skip outside to my chariot. Karlina and Phoenix are waiting there in light brown clothes covered in real fruit. Karlina gazes at my dress, looks down at hers, and starts to cry. "I'm not going to have any sponsors," she whimpers. "You have a prettier outfit than I do, and no one will even notice me." I feel so sorry for her. Phoenix pats her hand from his towering position above her. He is incredibly tall.

I climb into the chariot with them. There is a bit of time before we leave. I see District Nine far ahead of us. The beautiful girl and tiny boy there are wearing strange outfits of different types of grain woven together. I can see also see District Ten. The tributes there are siblings. The older one, the girl, is wearing a fleecy robe to look like a sheep, and she looks very annoyed. Her adorable little brother is robed in fluffy yellow feathers. He looks like a farmyard chick.

Our District Eleven chariot lurches forward, and the Capitol sees us. They will love me. Orcha, the special tribute, the surprise tribute. Orcha Mellow, the little pixie.

Ember Burns, District Twelve (15)

Sam stands next to me. He nervously bounces from foot to foot in the chariot as we wait for all the other eleven chariots to leave. Some of the other outfits are nice, some normal, some astounding, some just plain weird, but we will outshine them all. Our stylists are amazing. Ever since Katniss and Peeta so many years ago, pity they died, District Twelve stylists have been determined to design splendid outfits. But ours will be the best in history.

My stylist, Diano, runs out of the building. He seems to be in a great hurry. I feel our coal black horses starting to move, but Diano grabs the back of the chariot. "Set off the switch when I give you the signal," he yells. Sam and I nod, and Diano lets go. Our horses bound forward into the sight of the Capitol crowd.

They turn to us, and obviously are disappointed. We are wearing simple black coal miner outfits, and carrying pick axes. Or so it seems. From far away, I see Diano give the signal: a salute. Sam and I clutch hands, raise them above our heads, and press the button.

With an explosion, throwing sound and light in every direction, our coal miner outfits fall away, leaving the real costumes. The Capitol citizens' attention whips back to us, and they see one of the best chariot ride costumes they will ever see. We do not have fire streaming from our clothes, as Katniss and Peeta did. We are the fire. We are completely enshrouded in red, orange and yellow garments, with fire that looks real blanketing us. Sam jumps up onto the top of the chariot, and I follow. With a last, grand gesture, we spread our arms out wide. But they are not arms. They are phoenix wings, every feather made in painstaking detail. We are phoenixes. We are the flame. We are indomitable.

The Capitol cheers for us and doesn't stop. All their attention is riveted onto us. We have brought the other districts' attempts to steal the show down in flames. We have made chariot ride history.

Hurrah! I love not having to write Reapings anymore, so chapters should be out more frequently. Now, please tell me if you like how the characters were portrayed, and which chariot ride costume was your favorite. And review! Please review!


	16. Powers: Part One

"Power changes everything till it is difficult to say who are the heroes and who the villains."

-Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing

Receiving of the Powers

Miri Ismail-Pignati, District One (15)

"Hold still, Miri, and this will only hurt for a second," says the tall man who summoned me from my sleep. I frown. What is he going to do that will hurt? I open my mouth to object but he leaps forward and plunges a needle into my arm. It feels like fire, but I resist the urge to slap him away. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. I growl at him, "Do I have my power now?" "Yes. You have the power of making illusions. Try it out. Think of something, anything, and imagine it in this room. We will see it but it won't really be there." Well. Not an attacking power, like I was hoping for, but I suppose it's useful enough.

Thinking of a giant spider mutt, I concentrate and it appears at the other end of the room. Can I make it do anything I want? I concentrate on it scuttling toward the man who gave me my shot and it obliges.

He shudders. "Make one more illusion, and you'll be free to go and train. Be sure to keep practicing," he says hurriedly and leaves the room. I think of myself. Can I make myself? I can. A Miri Ismail-Pignati appears next to me, perfect in every detail. I try to make her say something but it comes out as a tiny squeak. Apparently illusions can't make sounds very well.

But this will be so helpful in fooling the other tributes, I can't wait.

Marcus Nosa, District One (16)

I rub my stinging arm and glare at the perky lady who administered it. "Well? Did that give me my power? If not…" I leave the threat unsaid.

She clucks her tongue. "Now, now, don't be so grumpy, Mark! You have a very special power now! You can make acid come out of your fingers. It will dissolve almost anything, but will not hurt you."

"That is cool," I admit, "But don't call me Mark." "Okay, Mark! Now try out your acid on this avox," she tells me. She leaves the room for a moment, and returns with an obviously terrified avox girl. She is staring at me, petrified, her eyes open so wide I can see the white all around her pupils. "Now," says the Capitol lady cheerfully, "point your fingers at her and concentrate."

Feeling very foolish, I do so, and I am shocked to see a green liquid spew out. Where it touches the avox girl, her flesh dissolves. She tries to shriek, but having no tongue, she can't. Within seconds, she is a mass of red, bloody blisters and gaping holes. She is dead.

"Excellent," I hiss, feeling no regret. "I'll have every tribute in the arena dead before the gong sounds." "I'm sure you will, Mark. Now go train, practice your power, have fun, and toodle-oo!" She waves and leaves the room. So do I, ready to train.

Thalia Bronx, District Two (15)

"For the last time, what is my power?" I snap. If that man hasn't given it to me yet, I am going to kill him.

"For the last time, Thalia, be quiet so I can tell you," he snaps back. After another whole minute of painfully boring waiting while he fills out some charts, and my arm throbs, he turns back to me. "Your power is energy bursts," he says. "And what is that?" I ask coldly. "It means that, for short periods of time, your physical power, jumping and hitting and running, is increased. After you have one of these energy bursts, it will take a few hours for it to recharge. Understood?"

I nod. This is actually amazing. "Do I get to test it out here?" I ask. He reaches around the edge of the door and pulls in a young avox boy. "Yes, do it to this boy. Use a flurry of quick energy burst hits. It will feel natural, just concentrate and try." I face the boy. He is shaking his head, mouthing a silent _no. _Silly boy shouldn't have become an avox, it's his fault.

I concentrate hard and see my skin start to glow. Taking this to mean it's ready, I send out a flurry of punches toward the avox. My fists are shooting out so fast, and hitting so hard, I've never felt so empowered before. The avox's nose bursts and spews blood, when I'm not even trying to kill him. I would without a doubt win these games, if it weren't for Tristan. I can't kill my brother.

Tristan Bronx, District Two (18)

I inhale calmly through the painful shot. "Is it done?" I ask the quiet woman who gave it to me. She nods and reaches under her desk and takes out a gun. This makes me curious. What does a gun have to do with my power? Do I make it more dangerous? Do I weld it to my skin?

Without warning, she brings it up and fires at me.

Reflexively I fling out my hands to block the bullet from hitting my head, expecting a blinding pain as it rips through. Only it doesn't come. A huge blue bubble forms around me, and the bullet bounces off harmlessly. I stare at the woman who could have killed me. "So my power is forcefields?" I ask. This is absolutely wonderful. This could save my life, easily, it will be invaluable in the arena.

I tap the bubble from my position inside. It makes a hard clunking sound, like that of a heavy cauldron hitting another, and the forcefield ripples. I fling out my hands again, and it pops. I can go show Thalia this new ability now! I hope she has just as good a power.

Erica Jones, District Three (16)

"Well? I told you, you have your power. Try it out," says the Capitol woman. "And I said, how will I do it if I don't know what it is? Just tell me," I retort. I'm kind of in a bad mood because Narui and I argued all night after the chariot rides. _'You think you're better than I am?' 'I never said that, little boy!' 'Don't call me that, freak girl!' _Anyway. The woman sighs irritably. "Invisibility. You can become invisible. Concentrate on it." Really? Really? I can't believe it, this has got to be the best thing I could have. If nobody can see me, nobody can catch me, and I'll be safe. I concentrate but nothing happens. How convenient. "It's not working," I say. "Yes it is. I can't see you, but you can see yourself," she sighs. Oh, good. I walk up to the woman and make a face at her, rolling my eyes and poking out my tongue. She shows no signs of recognition. Excellent. I am unkillable now.

Now you see me...

...now you don't.

Narui Chahyne, District Three (14)

"No. Way. Could you please tell me that again, or wait, is that really my power?" I ask him in disbelief. Did he actually say I could fade into mist? He nods. This is astonishing! My mother, if she hadn't blown up in a lab explosion, would have studied the power for ages, since she was a scientist. "Try it now," the man urges. I think hard, and imagine every fiber of my body fading into mist. I am mist, I am mist, I won't have to deal with my mean district partner anymore because I am mist. And now I am.

I raise my arm in front of my face. It swirls in a vague arm shape, intangible. Unhurtable. I float up, hovering above the ground. There is no way I can be hurt now, unless I am caught off guard while I'm not in this form. Take that, Erica! Whatever power you have, I beat you!

Elizabeth Shore, District Four (16)

"I have super speed? Really? That is just incredible," I whoop, making up a weird dance move on the spot. Super speed! Even if it's not an attack power, I can still- wait. It _can _be an attack power.

"Excuse me?" I ask the woman who is watching me in amusement, "Can I please have something to practice on?" She look surprised, but shrugs and leaves the room, returning with an avox girl. "Here you go. What are you going to do?" asks the Capitol woman. "This," I tell her. I concentrate hard, start from the other end of the room, and run towards the frightened avox. The speed is incredible. I have crossed the room in about a split second, and slam into the avox. Her arm cracks, and hangs limply as she stares in shock at me. The arm is broken, but in the arena, I could aim for a neck instead. Incredible!

Nurturew Quetile, District Four (13)

"That does fit my district, I guess," I admit. Hmm, water power. This could be a big advantage in the arena. _If _there is plenty of water somewhere in it. Perhaps a lake or at least a pond. This will be good enough for the Careers to let me into their alliance! I hope they will. I've got to join, to have any chance of surviving. My mentor Hudson says, turn anything you've got into an advantage, if you're small and not so strong like I am.

"Could I have a cup of water, please?" I ask the lady who gave me this power with the painful shot. She gives me one, and I think hard about the water flying out onto the ground.

_Sploosh! _It does. Now I can do anything at all with it, I realize, as I form the water into different shapes. The Careers might let me in now!

Aaliyah Kingsport, District Five (16)

"Possession," I muse. "Now this is a potentially colossal advantage. But it does have the drawback of not being able to induce others to commit suicide. Still, it will be useful." That was what she said, anyway. I can't make others kill themselves. The grouchy woman nods. "I'll bring in an avox for you to test it on," she grumbles. She leads in a very small avox girl, who looks younger than I am. "Concentrate on inhabiting her, then make her do something," says the Capitol woman.

Why should I do that to an innocent young girl? I concentrate on possessing the Capitol woman instead. Suddenly, I am feeling everything through her, and I see my blank, unmoving body still standing motionless. "You are free to go," I tell the avox through the other woman. The avox looks surprised, but nods, bows, and leaves. I go back to my other body. The woman looks furiously at me, then storms away. Aaliyah 1; Capitol 0.

Charlie Blue, District Five (13)

I am completely disappointed with this 'power'. Pretending to be dead. _Really. _I mean, that's _totally _useful. It'll certainly save my life, not. "So how is this going to help?" I mumble to the cheerful man. "Try it out! Just imagine being dead. Trust me, it'll really look authentic, blood and everything!" he says. Without much hope, I collapse to the floor and imagine being dead. I'm dead, I'm dead, a corpse, a cadaver...like my father would want me to be.

With this burst of anger, the power comes into effect. I feel my body go limp, and see blood that is not really there trickle out from underneath me. The Capitol man jumps back, startled. "Now that looks realistic!" he gasps. "It looks like your head is crushed in! Good job." He waves goodbye and leaves the room. I still don't like this power. But I better keep it secret from the other tributes; its advantage will only work with surprise.

Bianca Calder, District Six (17)

Where is Kyle? Where are they taking me? Why did that man give me a shot? Kyle, I'm scared. If I have to have a power, why does getting it have to _hurt _so much?

"Try it out," the Capitol man urges. Apparently he was talking. Did he tell me what my power was? I didn't hear it. "What was my power?" I whisper. He looks exasperated. "I said it was telekinesis. Telekinesis means-" "I know what telekinesis means," I interrupt him. "Moving things with your mind. How do I do it?" "By concentrating," he huffs.

I concentrate on lifting the irritable man's foot just...a...little...and it flies off the ground, the rest of him following. He crashes to the hard floor. I cover my mouth in shock. "Oh, I'm sorry! Really, I'm so sorry. Can I help you up?" He waves me away and mounts to his feet by himself. Well, he doesn't have to be so mean. I was trying to be nice. I just want to go find Kyle, and he'll make everything better.

Killian Edwards, District Six (18)

Whatever my power is, I hope it will help me protect Bianca. She was shaking in her shoes when they took her to have her power. I have got to stay with her at all times. "What is the- _ouch! _Power that I have?" I ask, wincing at the sharp sting of the needle. The woman who gave it to me fills out a chart, then turns to me, looking nervous. "Your power is telepathy," she says, twisting her hands. "Mm, well, you're going to have to read my mind. What am I thinking?" I focus hard, and at first only feel general apprehension and annoyance, but when I probe deeper, I seem to sense 'If you're reading my mind, please don't find out any secrets.' I laugh and she seems slightly relieved. "I won't find out any secrets," I promise. She nods and smiles as she backs away quickly and leaves the room. Now people will be _scared _of me? I don't want them to be scared of me. I won't tell anyone else my power then, except for Bianca, of course. She needs me.

**The chapter you've been waiting for! The powers, some of them anyway! Please tell me in a review which power was your favorite. I'm doing the other part next. So please...review!**


	17. Powers: Part Two

"Power resides only where men believe it resides. [...] A shadow on the wall, yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow."

-George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings

Receiving of the powers Part Two

Alyssa Nightbloom, District Seven (15)

"Ouch! If you haven't given me the power with the bloody shot yet, I'll-" "Hush, Alyssa," says the calm woman. "You do have your power. Summoning storms, and calling down lightning, even if you're inside a building. Try it out on this avox." She leans around the doorframe and pulls in an avox. The little thing is trembling, his teeth chattering, as he shakes his head _no, no, no, _over and over again. Electrocute this little boy? No way! I concentrate, and see a dark cloud start to form overhead. Drawing down a powerful forked lance of lightning, I fling it into the Capitol woman, who has only a moment to look shocked before collapsing. I cover my mouth in horror. "Oh, my gosh, I think I've just killed her. I just accidentally killed a Capitol woman! It was an accident!"

I am so dead.

Jifere Asolki, District Seven (15)

"So what is it?" I ask, after wincing and flicking away an imaginary drop of blood. That _hurt. _"Your power is control of plants," says the young man. Wow, really? Control of plants? That's awesome! I could control one to reach out and grab an enemy tribute, heh heh heh. Never mind. "Well? Here. Test it out. Don't try any funny business, like making it attack me. If you do, it's off to the avox center with you," he grumbles, and brings a small flowering houseplant in a pot to me. Friendly guy. I focus on the plant, trying to draw it towards me. It willingly obliges, and bends so far it uproots itself, falling out of the pot. "Aww, I killed it. Could I have another one?" I whine. "No, you baby. Go train or something." I _really _don't like this guy. He's mean. Like the whole Capitol.

Flanella McCoy, District Eight (14)

I wish they would just leave me _alone. _I can do without a power, honestly, I just want to go to training and find allies. I need some allies desperately, if I am to survive. "Ow!" I squeak, flailing my arms at the sudden prick. "That was painful. Don't do that." "But dear!" cooes the Capitol woman. "Now you can fly!" Okay...that has got to be the weirdest thing I've ever heard. "I can fly?" I ask cautiously. Is that my power? "You can fly, sweetie. Glide, actually, just jump off a high surface and spread your arms. The air will bear you up," she beams. I can fly. I can fly? Without her telling me to, I jump onto a high table. Words seem to appear in my head independently.

"_I'm light as a cloud, as free as a bird. I'm part of the sky and I can fly."_

I soar into the air, feeling more free, more safe than I ever have before. I can fly.

Ashely Downing, District Eight (18)

Ice. Ice is my power, he said. And now I am facing a tall cup of water, ready to turn it to ice. Will it work? I hope so. The man is staring at me expectantly. So I stare at the ice, willing it, willing it to freeze. I concentrate hard, but nothing happens. I turn back to the man, disgruntled. "It's not working," I start to say, but then hear a cracking sound. When I whirl back, I see the glass has cracked, the water inside turned to to ice. It worked. If I were the sort of person who got excited, I would be jumping up and down in jubilation right now. But I don't, and won't. Still, I've done it. Can I do more? I lift my hands. The cup-shaped hunk of ice flies into them. I make a gesture, and it twists into a form vaguely like that of an eye. With a final gesture, the ice melts away into a damp patch on my icy blue training suit. The Capitol man applauds good naturedly. "What a show! You'll have the arena dominated in no time at all, young man!" I gaze at the wet patch thoughtfully. I will. I will dominate and win.

Calida Blitz, District Nine (13)

"Fire! Yes! Fire power!" I crow, dancing wildly around the room. Nothing can aggravate me now, even my baby of a district partner. He'll die at once, he's no worry to me. But fire power! All that I have hoped for has come true! The Capitol woman who gave me the shot and the avox boy I'm supposed to test this out on are both staring at me in apprehension.

"_Burn them! Burn them all!" _cries little Teff in my head. _"Yes, burn them both!" _ the voices shout. I shall. I'll burn the whole Capitol away! I swing around a table to face my startled victims. Without ado, I thrust out my hands and shoot jets of fire from them. The shrieks and cries, the wordless gasps of the avox, the smell of sizzling flesh- it's what I was made for. Soon the pleas for mercy stop, and I madly dance out of the room. "I am Calida Blitz!" I howl to all in the Capitol. "I am mad, mad Calida Blitz, the flaming witch! I'll burn you all to a firey death!" _"Yes," _ hisses Teff. _"Burn them all!" _I will! They will all die!

Jakob Caraway, District Nine (11)

"Small teleporting? What's that mean?" I ask the nice lady. She looks down at me pityingly. "It means you can appear from one place to another place close to it, just by concentrating." I think I hear her whisper, "Poor boy," under her breath. Why's everyone saying that? Millet and Bran, two grownups on the train called mentors, said that when they thought I wasn't listening. Bran started to cry. Calida just was angry at me. I don't know why. Everyone else has been so nice to me. So I better help this lady out. I think hard about appearing on top of the table in this room. With a *pop*, I am there! This is fun! I laugh and jump down. The lady smiles and straightens my light blue suit Millet said was for training. "You'll do great, sweetie. Now run along the hall, and go to training. Try to find some allies, friends who will help you." I give her a big grin and hug her. "Thank you, ma'am. I hope I can see you again soon." After I run out the door, I hear her start to cry. Why is she sad? Isn't this a game? Maybe I'll win!

Promise Hawk, District Ten (15)

Growing? Growing is my power? That man said I could grow up to the size of a giraffe, then shrink back to normal. Hmmm. I bet Rory will have shrinking power, to be paired with me. Wouldn't the Capitol just love that. 'The big sister can grow huge, and the little brother can shrink really tiny! How cool!'

"Well, try it," the Capitol man urges. Fine. I shall. Imagining myself shooting upward, tall and wide, I actually begin to. Within seconds, I have gone from my normal height of 5' 6" to 8' 0". There I have to abruptly stop, because my head is brushing the ceiling. Any more and I'd break my neck. Wasn't there something like this in one of Rory-kins' favorite stories? A girl ate different things, like a mushroom and cakes, and she could change size with them. How fitting that book is. She went into Wonderland. Wonderland was a mad place. I am lost in a mad, mad, world. I will not come out alive. Because I will protect Rory over myself. I always shall.

Rory Hawk, District Ten (12)

Shrinking to the size of a butterfly! Amazing! If I were in a safe lab, with no impending threat of the Games ahead, the possible tests would be endless. Promise, of course, will have the power of growth, since the Capitol would think it would be awesome to pair our powers, as we are adorable together. I wonder if the District Two siblings will have paired powers. Whether they do or not, they are scary. Maybe even Promise couldn't beat them.

"Where did you go?" I hear the the Capitol woman roar. Why is she so loud? Then I realize that, without meaning to, I have shrunk far below my usual height of 4' 6", so she is immense compared to me. I am the size of a butterfly, down at the woman's feet, and she is stepping over me, about to crush me without knowing I am there. With tremendous effort, I shoot up to normal size, and only receive her foot knocking me on the head. She jumps back, startled. So this power has dangers as well as bonuses...there is much to learn.

Karlina Pareith, District Eleven (17)

"What are you doing?" I ask the young woman, my voice high pitched with anxiety. "Is that a-OUCH!" Tears immediately fill my eyes from the stinging shot. The woman pulls the needle away from my arm and slaps me in annoyance. "Don't be such a baby. You have your power now." I don't _care _about a power. I just want to go home to my doll Pamela, to my sunflowers, to the butterflies. I'm going to _die _here_. _The Capitol woman snorts and sets a small blue ball on a table. "Pick it up without moving your feet," she commands. How will I do that? It's on the other side of the room! Without hope, I reach out my skinny arm- and it stretches. My arm, now many feet long, is able to let my hand pick up the ball. Then I pull my arm back, and it returns to normal length. I stare in fascination at the arm, forgetting my tears. I stretch out both arms, then both legs, and contort them into fantastic shapes. This is absurd!

Phoenix Florence, District Eleven (18)

"So my power is...shapeshifting?" I ask, puzzled. Isn't that too powerful? I mean, I could just turn into a dinosaur and boom, game over, tributes. Not that I'm complaining. The Capitol woman shakes her head crossly. "No, not shapeshifting. You can change the materials of your body for limited amounts of time. Like you could change your left arm into gold for a few minutes. Test it out." Now, this is astounding.

I hold my left arm out and look hard at it. I concentrate on it changing to gold, like in the legend of King Midas. It doesn't seem to have any effect, but when I look closer, I see the skin rippling, and a pattern of metal pressing up against my skin, and- CLANG.

My arm, completely gold now, drags my body down to the floor with its incredible weight. I am stuck! Help! The Capitol woman laughs her head off until I banish the gold hunk, and regain my normal arm. Well. Maybe I'll need some practice.

Orcha Mellow, District Eleven (14)

"Soothing Song?" I gasp, my eyes shining. "You mean I can sing, and everybody around me will calm down and stop fighting?" He nods, smiling at my wonder. Soothing Song! I will be safe! No tribute or wild beast will hurt me now, that is, unless they are deaf or are blocking their ears somehow. I hope they won't do that. "Here, try your power now," says the Capitol man. He retreats into a little control compartment and closes all the doors. I can't escape? What is he doing? I turn back to him in fear, but there is a nest of tracker jackers he lowered from the ceiling, right in front of me. What? He's trying to kill me? The tracker jackers fly out furiously, and with no other hope, I start to sing. "Are you, are you, coming to the tree," and they fly more slowly. "Where they hung up a man they say murdered three," and some of them stop moving. "Strange things have happened here, no stranger would it be, if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree," I finish. All the tracker jackers have stopped moving, some of them only inches from me. I am safe.

Ember Burns, District Twelve (15)

Heightened senses. Imagine that, heightened senses. This could possibly be one of the most useful powers I could have gotten, because I wouldn't even use a dangerous attacking power. I don't want to hurt people. _"She's acting like a kid under a christmas tree," _ I hear from the Capitol man mutter from the other side of the room. Ha, bet he doesn't know I heard him with this power. What's a christmas tree, anyway? Probably just a Capitol thing. I want to keep using this power some more, it's fun! I peer at the room across from ours, where Sam is supposed to be receiving his power. Silly old Sam, composing poems all night. Even though the room he's in is far across the hall, I can see inside. I don't see Sam, though. I see a Capitol woman and a little girl. How odd. _"What is that girl doing?" _I hear an exasperated whisper from the man who gave me the shot. I definitely shouldn't be able to hear him, but I can. Nobody will sneak up on me! Nobody can follow me in the arena! Nobody can attack me without me noticing first! Maybe, just maybe, I can come home!

Sam McEowan, District Twelve (16)

"So, I can turn into whoever another person misses most?" I ask, trying to get it clear. "Yes, that's right. Try it here. You will take the form of the person I miss most," she says. Hmmmm, I think this is worth that nasty shot. A bloodthirsty tribute in the arena isn't going to kill someone who appears to be their little sister, or their father, right? Okay, I'll try. I face her, and feel myself immediately shrinking. My height plummets, and my blonde hair goes brown, and grows longer and longer. I even see my pale green training suit turn into a red calico dress. Finally I am a little girl only about five years old. The Capitol woman looks down at me sadly. "You are in the form of my daughter Sarah. She ran away from home just a month ago. She must be dead." My childish face twists into a frown. "I'm sorry," I say squeakily. How do girls tolerate their voices as high as this? Anyway, I don't want to stay as a girl forever, so I'm going to change back now- but wait! Wouldn't it be funny to see the shocked tributes when a little girl strolls in? I think I'll try it out, in training...

**Yes! All the powers are done, and I can go on to training, which I will try to get out soon. Again, which of these powers do you like the most? Tell me in a review! For the sake of the tributes, review!**


	18. Training Day One

"I hated every minute of training, but I said, 'Don't quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion."

-Muhammad Ali

Training Day One

Nurturew Quetile, District Four (13)

Surveying the training area, I know I have got to get into the Career alliance. They're already dominating the room, showing off their new powers, using weapons with ease. For me to have any chance of surviving the Games, I've got to be in a really strong alliance, and to get in, I have to impress them. My mentor Adrian said I'm too small, too unskilled, I have no chance. But what does he know. That crusty old guy is seventy five years old, he won the 190th Games at fifteen. Fierce in his time, could use a spear like nobody's business. But never mind him.

My eyes run over swords, spears, bows and arrows, knives. What can I use to impress the other Careers? I think I'll try the sword. I take one, nearly staggering under the weight, and step up to the fighting simulation range.

" 'Scuse me, could you start the moving target practice?" I call to an avox. He nods and presses a switch. Three targets start to zoom towards me on hidden wheels, carrying weapons. Okay, breathe in, breathe out, Nuri. You can do this. The first one reaches me and swings out with a blunt sword. Duck, Nuri! Parry, lest your head be clobbered! Slash!

I disarm it by sheer luck and turn to the next one. It snaps a whip, the tip barely missing my face. But I'm too fast for it, so kick upward! Twist! Bring down, come on Nuri!

I disarm it as well, astonishing myself, but by the time I face the next one, it's already ensnared me. I screech like a wounded cat and twist about in the net, only tangling myself more. Then the wretched practice dummy lays about me with a light club. I writhe, trying to escape the shower of blows. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" I howl. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Careers laughing fit to burst, along with every other tribute. I'm never getting into their alliance now! Never! Ever! I'm doomed!

The avox finally stops his gales of silent laughter and turns off the fighting simulation. He runs over and untangles me. When I am freed, I storm out of the room, bruised and humiliated. That was awful. What a nightmare. I'm never getting into anyone's alliance now. Adrian was right, I have no chance.

Thalia Bronx, District Two (15)

I finally manage to stop laughing at the antics of that little District Four boy. Silly kid. He'll never get into our Career alliance. I turn to Tristan. "Wow, hope the other Careers aren't as bad as that."

"I don't think so," he says, and points to the District Four girl. She has a spear in hand, and is at the fighting simulation range that the boy from her district so miserably failed at. She, however, isn't failing. Every time a training dummy gets near her, she zips away, using much more speed than any normal person could. Speed must be her power. As I watch, she feints to the left, leading all four of her attackers that way, but then she dodges behind them and shoves in the spear. It goes through all four, and they stop moving. She has clearly won.

I glance toward Tristan again, and, as usual, we can tell what the other is thinking. Not really. I'm sure someone has that power, but not us. "We should recruit her, shouldn't we?" says Tristan. "Definitely. How about the District Ones? Usually District Ones are all fluff and no stuff, only good for sponsors. We recruiting them?" Tristan smirks. "Oh, I don't know. Why don't you just take a look at them?"

When I glance over, I see something that even impresses me. The boy, who I believe is called Mark, is fencing with three trainers at once, and disarms them one at a time. I can't do that! I can only do two at once!

The girl, called Mirror or Mira or something like that, has climbed up a branchless tree and is hanging down with her ankles locked around the smooth trunk. Another tribute, the girl from District Eight, is trying to make a fire in a circle of rocks at the base of the tree, oblivious to the girl over her. District One is softly tying District Eight's curly blonde hair to the trunk. As I watch, Curly Hair sighs unhappily over her failed attempt to start the fire. She starts to get up, and immediately sets off a series of bloodcurdling shrieks, clutching her head. "MY HAIR! MY HAIR! SOMEONE IS PULLING MY HAIR OUT! HELP! OWWW!" When trainers hurry over, District One looks in my direction and winks, mouthing "Mission accomplished," before she shoots higher up the tree. I can't help but laugh. What a clever, sneaky addition to our alliance. Let's gather everyone together.

Tristan and I round up District One and the girl from District Four. "Okay, I am going to be in charge of this alliance, understand?" says Tristan firmly. No one argues, and he continues.

"I have seen you three are worthy to join the Career alliance. Never mind the District Four boy. Anyway, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Tristan."

"Elizabeth, call me Liz."

"Miri."

"Marcus. If you call me Mark, I will strangle you with your own intestines."

"Thalia," I say, eyeing 'Marcus, don't call me Mark'. Feisty one, may cause some trouble. Liz looks at me curiously. "You're Tristan's brother, aren't you?" she asks. I nod and she grins. "There's the District Ten siblings too. Don't think that's ever happened before in one Games." "Well, I don't intend on one of them coming out."

I don't. And with this team we've got, one of us is sure to win. Let's just make sure it's me or Tristan.

Calida Blitz, District Nine (13)

Why won't they let me go and train? It's not fair. Just because I torched the avox, Capitol woman, and two trainers, doesn't mean I'm a lunatic! But they've locked me in my room! "Hey!" I yell to the door. "Let me out! You can't keep me in here!" "Yes, we can," comes a muffled reply. "But...but...I'm going to die first in the bloodbath if I can't train," I whine, letting a scared-little-girl tone come into my voice. "I'll burn this room up with myself inside if you won't let me out. Do you want to directly be responsible for my death?" There is a long pause, then an irritated mutter, and the door opens.

The guard stomps in. "Fine, you can come and train. But," he lifts a finger, "you have to have these fireproof gloves on." He puts them on my hands and runs glue around the edges. "No more fire for now. These can only be taken off with special nano-glue dissolvant. Now shoo, or I'll-"

I am halfway down the hall to the training center before he finishes the sentence.

When I get there, the first person I see is the girl from District Eight. She is clutching her curly hair with one hand, and wildly gesticulating with the other. She's talking to the District Seven boy and the District Three girl. Even though the other two are clearly older than she is, they are listening attentively and nodding, bending down to her eye level. I'd guess they're forming an alliance. But who cares about them?

I take my place at the target practice, drawing a lot of curious looks from people who don't think a small thirteen year old girl can hit a target board. If I intend to satisfy Teff in the arena by killing, I can't just rely on fire. I'm going to use some knives. Picking up a throwing knife, I snap my fingers imperiously at an avox. Miffed, he presses the button to start the sequence, and then walks away. I can do this.

The target on the far left flashes red. I hurl a knife, missing the center by a fraction. Ugh, not good enough. When the far right one flashes, I cartwheel toward it and fling, sending the knife spinning directly into the bullseye. I see the District Four girl point excitedly at me, inducing the rest of her pack to observe me. Yes, I've drawn some attention from the big fish! Maybe I can join the Careers, of course I'd eventually torch them, but for a while I could-

THWACK!

The target spun toward me and knocked into my head. I fly backward, twist around, and land on my stomach. My head is throbbing, and so is my stomach now. Ow, ow, ow. The Careers laugh and turn away, their attention being drawn to the District Eight boy, who is throwing spears perfectly. When did this go so wrong? As I empty the contents of my aching gut, I see the District Two boy approach Mr. Perfect Spears. How is this possible? Are they going to ask him to join them? I was so close! It's not fair!

Ashely Downing, District Eight (18)

After I throw another spear, landing it in the bullseye, it happens. I knew it would. The District Two boy is coming toward me. I know what he wants. "Excuse me," he begins, looking down his nose at me. If he is trying to appear important and imposing, it isn't working. I'm as tall as he is. "I have come to ask you to-" "Yes, yes, I know," I interrupt him. "You want me to join your Career alliance."

"Oh, so you will?" he says, relieved. "Good. I'm Tristan, and the others are-" "I never said I would," I interrupt again. "Now, leave. I work alone." He tenses, his face becoming a mask of embarrassment and surprise. Not a good combination. Oh, wouldn't I just like to break that upturned nose off his pretty face. He thinks he can tell an outer district tribute to jump, and they'll ask 'how high?'.

"You may want to think this through more carefully," he suggests, twirling a heavy morning star in one hand. He is trying to intimidate me. How laughable. "We both know that you can't do anything to me in the training center," I remind him. "So we do. But that doesn't stretch into the arena, and I don't intend to let you think you can walk off safely after having refused me."

He thinks he can scare me. This is too much. Pretty Boy Tristan is going to have to know that I'm not frightened of his cute little morning star.

I concentrate on my power, and feel my hands grow cold. Small ice crystals start flaking off and melting on the floor. It's about to get cold, Pretty Boy...

He frowns. "What are you doing- hey, stop!" I summon a whirling mound of snow and drop it onto him.

He goes down under the snow. His sister, Thalia, I recall, stares at me. Then she unleashes such a torrent of curses, it makes my ears ring, and she runs to save her snowy brother. "You filthy beast! You could have killed him!" she yells, frantically pawing at the snow heap, the rest of the Careers helping. They hate me now. But the others, I expect, don't. I see furtive grins, hear tiny giggles from the other tributes.

Oh, I'm sorry, Pretty Boy Tristan. Did you just get beaten by an outer district? It won't be the last time, I promise you.

Flanella McCoy, District Eight (14)

Massaging my head, which is still sore, I think of what I accomplished in the training center today as I return to my floor. I've gotten two allies, Erica and Jifere. What nice people they are. Jifere is always making jokes and cheering us up, and Erica is just so sweet, helping us as best she can with the fighting and survival stations. Even though they're both older than I am, I've kind of become the leader of our alliance. They were asking me about plans for the arena and stuff like that.

Coming out of the elevator on my floor, I promptly bump into and knock down an avox. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I gasp, and help her up. Then I freeze. Her face...her face. I know it. It's been so long, but I'd never forget her. She wouldn't forget me either.

"Mom?"

She presses my head to her cheek, our tears blending together. How can this be? Dad had thought she was dead. So had I.

"I thought- I'd lost you," I whisper, hugging her, holding her tight so she can never go away again. She shakes her head, stroking my curly hair so much like her own. Then she steps back, surveying me, taking in how I have changed in ten years. A decade. She smiles and mouths, 'You're so big now, Flanella. You're a young woman.'

"I know," I sniff, feeling a rage against the Capitol for cutting out her tongue. This is my mom, my precious mother, the most wonderful mom in the world.

Ashely and my escort Dayla rush into the room, followed by our mentors, Lacy and Jute. "What- but- what happened, Flanella?" sputters Jute. "Who is that?"

"My mom," I say, and take her hand. "Come on, Mom. I've got a lot of things to tell you about since they took you away."

**Aww...I'm sniffling over here now. That was so nice to write. Dear little Flanella and her mom! So how did you like the training? Markus too aggressive? Tristan too pompous? Anything else? Tell me in a review! So, my fantastic wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey readers, review!**


	19. Training Day Two

"On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Aaliyah Kingsport, District Five (16)

"Wake up, dear! It's time to train!"

Without looking, I punch the source of the annoying voice next to my bed, earning a squeal. My escort Zinnia Harlequin is so annoying. I barely touched her. "You hurt me! I'm not going to talk to you anymore," she sniffs, and flounces off. Too bad. Not.

"Come on, Aaliyah. Don't you want to possess a few Careers with your freaky new power?" This voice makes me open my eyes. It's Prysm. Prysm is my mentor, and she is much better than Charlie's elderly mentor, Galvan, who spends all his time guzzling Capitol food. Prysm is leaning against my bedroom door, casually fingering a knife. "You getting up or something? Because there's much to do and so little time. After all, you're going into the games. You're probably going to die."

"Gee, thanks," I snort. "You're so comforting."

"I know, don't bother to thank me," she says, and leaves the room. Well. I better go train, anyway. I don't want to give up my life without a fight, and with my level of skill in swimming, if the arena is filled with water, that's exactly what's going to happen.

"All right, on my mark, Aaliyah, in three...two...one...go!" The trainer at the swimming station blows her whistle, and I shoot out through the water. At least, that was the intention. Within seconds, I'm floundering in the seven foot deep pool, coughing and sputtering. The trainer sighs, irritated, apparently unaware that I'm drowning here. "He- splaugh- help!" I gurgle, sucking in a mouthful of water. "You'll never learn to swim if you're always being saved," she answers. Oh, really? I don't think I can learn if I'm dead, either!

SPLASH!

Another person jumps into the pool and swims toward me with quick, sure strokes. "Keep your head up!" he yells, pulling me to the side of the pool. Who is that? He sounded like Charlie, but Charlie doesn't know how to swim either. What other young boy could he be? District Four, District Ten or District Nine?

After he yanks me up to the deck, I see it's the District Four boy. Of course. They can certainly swim better than anyone else. "Er- splaughh- sorry. Thanks for saving me," I cough. "You're welcome!" he says excitedly. "If it's not any trouble to you, could you help me get in the Career alliance?" "What? How would I do that?" I ask, confused. "I don't know. Oh, never mind. Forget it." He shrugs and stomps off. Short tempered and impatient, much? Oh well. I move on to the climbing station. I really could do with some tree climbing skill, and I'm not going to show my weapons skills until private sessions.

After some trying and failing and falling, I make it up to a fork in the branches. Nobody else is here, I can see.

"Hi!" says a cheerful voice next to my ear.

Jakob Caraway, District Nine (11)

"Hi!" I say to the girl who just climbed up next to me. She gasps something I often hear my father say when he's angry, then she falls out of the fork she was sitting in, barely managing to hook an ankle around the branch before she hits the ground. "What in Panem's name were you thinking, kid?" she snaps. I shrink back. "Oh. I- I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to startle you. I'll just go now." I turn to leave but she grabs my hand. "Wait, wait. I'm sorry. You don't have to go away. And you don't have to call me ma'am." Her face softens. "You're from District Nine, right?" she asks. I nod happily.

"I am! My name is Jakob. What's yours?"

Something in her expression changes again. It looks like she is about to cry. Then she fiercely wipes her eyes and the tears go away. "I'm Aaliyah." "Nice to meet you, Aaliyah," I say, grinning. "This place is so cool! Look what I can do." I focus on a spot higher up the tree. Then I appear there. I look down and laugh, seeing her startled face. "That's my power! It's how I got up here in the first place. I like being here. I hope I get to keep this power when I go home."

Her face twists again, and she turns away to hide it. "Maybe you can. Tell you what, why don't we be allies? I'll protect you when we go into the- the place they'll take us. Would you like that?"

"I would!" I beam, bouncing up and down on the thin branch I'm perched on top of.

"That would be great! I'd like to-" "Look out, Jakob!" she suddenly shrieks. The branch, really a twig, snaps, and I plummet toward the hard floor.

Narui Chahyne, District Three (14)

As I am in the disguise station, trying to paint my arm to look like bark, but making it look more like a blob, I hear a shriek, and a small boy falls down directly over me. Reflexively, I turn to mist, and he falls right through me, his head hitting the ground hard. I scuttle away like a crab, turning back to my normal body. What? How did that happen? Is he hurt?

He stands up unsteadily, swaying a little. He seems dazed. Then he starts to cry and drops back to the floor. "Oh no. Are you okay, little boy?" I ask, going up to him. He just keeps crying. What can I do? I want to help him, but I don't exactly have any idea how.

A girl jumps out of the tree and rushes past me to the boy. "Jakob, are you okay?" she says, looking him in the eye. He just keeps crying and rubbing his eyes. The girl shakes her head and picks him up, cradling his head against her shoulder, and looks around desperately. "Hey, this boy is hurt! Someone help me! Can anyone help me?" she yells. Nobody seems to be paying her any attention, so I step up. "I can help," I tell her. She grunts in frustration. "Can anyone else help me?" she calls. "I can too help! I'm fourteen years old, and I'm stronger than I look!" I say indignantly. "Fine. Help me hold him up, and we'll carry him to the infirmary, because nobody else in this rotten place is even listening to me!"

We carry the boy, who is still only crying, no matter what the girl, Aaliyah, asks him. Finally we make it to the infirmary, and hand him over to a doctor. She inserts a needle-like device into his arm, making Jakob cry even harder. The doctor peers at the readings on the device. "Hmm. I think he may have a major- I mean, minor concussion. I'll have to keep him for a while. How did this happen?"

We tell her, and she purses her lips. "This could be bad. Well, good job on acting quickly, you two. You make a good team."

When we leave the room, Aaliyah starts to sniffle. "I hope he'll be okay. Oh, please, someone, make Jakob okay."

Promise Hawk, District Ten (15)

As I am practicing with a whip, tearing a training dummy to pieces, and Rory is using a blowgun, for which apparently he has a natural talent, a girl with black hair comes up to me. "Hello," she says frankly. "Could I be your ally?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You want to be my ally? I mean, that would be great, I guess, but Rory has to approve you." She looks puzzled. "Your brother? Isn't he a little kid, just twelve? How would he approve me?"

"You'll see. Rory, could you come here a moment?"

He does, and surveys the girl. "Oh, yes. You're the District Twelve girl, fifteen years old, named Ember Burns. You live with your mother and four sisters, one of whom is eligible for the Reaping. Your father is in jail. You wouldn't try to hurt us until we were the only ones left, and-"

"Stop," she says, her eyes wide. "How did you know all that? It was true, every bit, and I didn't tell anyone. How did you know?"

Rory smirks. "I watched your Reaping."

Ember looks lost, so I laugh and explain to her. "He watched the Reaping, so he knows your name and district, obviously. Your age was fifteen, he knows, because I'm fifteen and he knows what I look like, so it wasn't a far stretch to you. He saw your mother and four sisters crying for you at the Reaping, and he saw a man in a prison uniform trying to get to you, of course he was your father."

"Yes, I guess, but how did he know I wouldn't hurt you...until, well, you know. It's true," she affirms.

"Lucky guess," Rory replies. Ember shakes her head. "You're a little genius, I guess. Can I be your ally?"

Rory and I smile. "Sure, as long as you don't snore," I promise. "That would be a bit dangerous if there were some Careers looking for us. Actually, anyone get some duct tape for a token?"

We all laugh, and I know this will be a good alliance. Better than I could have hoped for.

Orcha Mellow, District Eleven (14)

"So we'll go no more a-roving

So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright."

I start to cry again, hiding in my dark room. It's all useless, everything is useless. I'm going to die. I will go no more a-roving, with Beauty, with Nimble and Brute, with Quiver. Oh, Quiver. I would do anything to be back at the Hanging Tree with everyone, but I'm here instead, where soon I will die. There's nothing I can do. Nobody here cares about me. Nobody will.

"For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest."

Nobody loves me. My family may as well not exist, for all the care they show me. I don't even have any allies.

I slump to the floor, crying and crying. I'm going to die without being able to say goodbye to Beauty and Nimble and Brute. What can I even do? I'm strong, and I have a good aim. But that's nothing. I'm only fourteen. I've barely even seen the world, and I'm going to have to leave it so soon.

"Though the night was made for loving,

And the day returns too soon,

Yet we'll go no more a-roving

By the light of the moon."

There is a knock on the door. "Hello?" says a voice outside. I wipe my eyes and stand up. "Come in."

A small boy, Charlie from District Five, walks in. "I heard you crying from a vent in my room. I guess our vents go through the same path. Would you like to be my ally?" he asks. I sniff. "Are you sure? I don't think I'd be a very good ally."

"I am sure," he says.

I am comforted by his trust. I am a girl with no family...no hope...no chance of survival...but maybe a friend?

**Poor Orcha. I do feel sorry for her. So, did you like this chapter of training and mishaps? Thanks to District9and3-4, the submitter of Promise and Rory Hawk, for suggesting Ember ally them. I hadn't thought of that, and it's a pretty neat idea. Anyway, I've just done two chapters in two days. So...review! Or River Tam will kill you with her brain. She reminds me of Calida. Review!**


	20. Training Day Three

"The purpose of training is to tighten up the slack, toughen the body, and polish the spirit."

-Morihei Ueshiba

Bianca Calder, District Six (17)

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Kyle is poking his head through the doorway, beaming. "It's time for the last day of training, Bibi. Want to go throw things at the Careers with your telekinesis, or better yet, our weird escort Aelia Trintus?"

"Or our mentors, Opel and Iveco," I say sleepily, rolling out of bed. "Actually, not Iveco or Opel. They're nice."

They are so nice, actually. Iveco is fairly young and tries to cheer Kyle and me up all the time, even though he's had horrific experiences in his Games. Something about shark mutts in an aquatic arena, I believe. Opel is okay, too. She is pretty old but is almost as fast as I am, and I'm fast. Opel had a darling little ally in her arena. The ally's death was as sad as Rue's, all those years ago.

"Bibi...come hither, hither, pretty Bibi, with the pearl and silver wing. Your eyes are like the diamond- ow!" I telekinetically hurl a pillow at his head, giggling. "Be quiet, you beastly spider! I'm not a fly!" Bibi is his special nickname for me, and only my Kyle can use it. "Well, off to training," he says, trying to sound upbeat, though I know he is worried for me.

At training, I quietly tell Kyle my plan. A big smile comes over his face, and he nods. "I'll love to see their faces when you do it," he laughs. I wink and walk over to the Careers, stepping loudly so they'll notice me. They turn around from where they were talking together. Probably coming up with strategies. The District One girl looks at me in disgust, wrinkling her pretty nose. "Eww, is that a mutt or something?" she says in a stage whisper to her alliance. They all laugh, pointing at me and waving their hands in front of their faces, as if blowing away a bad smell. "Don't let it infect you!" calls one of them. I stop walking. Time to see what a good actress I can be.

My lip trembles and I force a tear out one eye, then another. "But I'm not ugly!" I wail, setting off more laughter. "No, of course you're not ugly, sweetie!" cooes the District Two girl. "You're loathsome!" This sends them all into hysterics. Time for the next act. I go to walk away from them, sniffling, but I trip, landing inches from their feet. The District Four girl snickers and leans down so our noses are almost touching. "Did you get hurt, darling?" she whispers mockingly. "No, I just wanted you to face me so that dirt could get behind you," I say, suddenly cheerful. She whirls around but it's too late. I drop the pile of dirt I picked up telekinetically from the camouflage station. It covers her and the rest of the Careers, making the girls shriek, and the boys swear. I run for dear life away, right back to Kyle.

"You did a great job, Bibi," he tells me. Coming from Kyle, I couldn't want anything else.

Elizabeth Shore, District Four (16)

What just happened? I am covered in dirt, and while brown is my favorite color, I'd rather not have it on me like this! Did that poisonous monster of a District Six girl do this? I am dirty! "Ewww!" I squeal and try to brush it off, Thalia and Miri doing the same thing, while Marcus and Tristan yell curses after poisonous monster girl. I hope she gets killed first in the bloodbath! Ugh! Wretched thing.

After I get most of it off, I go to take revenge on her.

While she is happily practicing with a sword next to her district partner, I sneak up behind her. I start running, and with my extra speed, I reach her in a second, and grab her arm. She squeaks, startled, and I yank her away, twisting her hand so she'll drop the sword. Now I'll bring her back to my alliance, and they'll decide what to do with the poisonous thing.

But it doesn't work quite like that.

As I pull her away, my mind goes blank. What was I doing? Why am I holding this girl? I drop her, and look around. Her district partner is glaring at me. When he stops, and goes to help her up, my mind unfogs. So! Looks like he has telepathy, and wiped my brain for a moment there. Won't he get it for that in the Games. I'll make sure he's killed, but I want him to see his poisonous monster girlfriend die first. They deserve it.

"Hey, watch me, Liz," says Thalia. "I'm going to do an energy burst." That's her power, energy bursts, such an amazing one.

Thalia steps up to a punching bag, and closes her eyes, summoning her power. Her eyes fly open, then she launches a full attack on the poor punching bag. It never had a chance. Within a few moments, it has been torn to pieces, its inside spread all over the ground. Thalia takes a deep breath and powers down. "That's what I'll do to the tributes in the arena," she announces.

I wouldn't like to be in her way in the arena.

I don't think anyone would.

In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she won.

Oh, Panem, somebody help me.

Jifere Asolki, District Seven (15)

"Hi-yah!"

I embed a knife into a tree, leaving it quivering inches from the last knife I threw. In a way, I'm enjoying being here; I can finally show off with my knives and people want me to! No more mother saying 'Jifere, you must not play with knives'!

Erica is watching admiringly. "I wish I could do that," she admits. Flanella is just flying all around the training room, being happy while she still can. Poor Flanella. She won't make it three flaps away from the bloodbath, I predict. Erica should do better. Maybe. Even if she doesn't, I've still had a little bit of time to appreciate this alliance. They're such friends to me now.

"Watch out, Jifere," says a voice right behind me. I twirl around, like I'm a doll on a music box, and see that nobody is there. "What the Capitol? Erica, is that you?" She dismisses her invisibility and pretends to pout. "How did you know it was me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're the only other person here who can turn invisible, but hey, that's just a guess." We both giggle, glad to still have something to laugh about.

Flanella swoops down in front of us, her face glowing with elation. "Look how well I can fly now!" she says. Taking a few steps, she darts into the air. She turns a pirouette, then a weightless backflip, and a loop-the-loop. Erica and I applaud for her. She's so proud and happy, having forgotten the looming Games for the joy of these few, blissful moments.

I wish I could forget what is coming. I can't, for I only think of Mother, Father, little Nathan. I will never come home to them. Because to do that, I would have to have Erica's and Flanella's blood staining my hands, literal or not. I can't do that to my friends. So I join in the laughter at the moment, trying to escape the danger, at least for a little bit.

Miri Ismail-Pignati, District One (15)

When the day is drawing to a close, I take the elevator back to the District One floor, Marcus standing by me. He keeps glancing at me, then quickly glancing away. I know what he is going to tell me.

After a sumptuous dinner, and a retelling of everything that happened in training to Aphrodite and Topaz, I retreat to my room. 'Practice makes perfect', Aunt Sandra always said, so I summon up illusions and banish them, again and again. I watch Momo dance around the room like he used to do to make me laugh. I see my long dead mother blow me a kiss. I see many people appear in my room and vanish into dust, dissolving, like my bones will.

I don't think I'll be able to win. I mean, sure, I've trained, but I know Liz feels the same thing. We aren't as sure of ourselves as Thalia and Tristan, and Marcus.

There is a knock on the door. Well, speak of the devil, here's Marcus. Go ahead, Marcus, say your piece, it's not like I haven't noticed you watching me. Through the chariot rides, through all the training. You scratched our names into your chair, like I wouldn't see it.

"Miri?" he says quietly. "I- I just wanted to tell you, actually- um, well, re-really, I think-" He's stuttering. What a comedown for brave warrior Marcus. "Mi-Miri, you know you're- well, you're really pretty, Miri-" Come on, just say it. "I- I think I like you, Miri."

I close the door in his face.

You don't win the Hunger Games by being in love, do you? I'm not going to make the mistake of Katniss and Peeta. Being in love will only get you killed. Like the District Six couple. I swear I'll kill them both.

**Oh, Marcus. Sigh. Miri would rather survive for sure than go for star-crossed lovers. Anyway, here's the last training day out! By the way, thank you TGPH, for saying last chapter was your favorite chapter. I'm glad. So, everyone, please vote in my new poll on 'who do you think should get the highest training score?' ! In my last poll, 'who is your favorite character', Marcus and Elizabeth and Killian (Kyle) had a tie, with two votes each. Also, my wibbly wobbly readers, review! Haven't I been a good updater? Review!**


	21. Private Training Sessions: Part One

"The best training is to play by ear: trial by fire."

-John Legend

Miri Ismail-Pignati, District One (15)

I'm going first. It's both a blessing and a curse, because they certainly won't be bored by the time I come in, but they'll also expect the most of me. Let's see what I can do without a boyfriend, Marcus.

I stand in front of the Gamemakers, who are watching attentively. Time for a show, Gamemakers, I'll give you all I've got. I activate the fighting simulation range at level hard, and backflip away from the control panel. A second later, a blunt spear thunks into it. Another zips by over my head, ruffling my hair. "Just getting warmed up!" I quip. Dodging away from the practice dummies, I make a quick illusion of myself running away, while I grab a sword and climb up a tree, ready to spring down. The practice dummies hurl spears at the illusion, and 'I' fall to the ground. Then I leap out of the tree, landing on one of them with the sword. The flimsy thing crunches and stops moving, and I leap to the next one before it even has a chance to react. I soon have disabled all four of them with my sword, leaping from one to the other. My only problem was that one of them clipped me on the shoulder and bruised it, which will take off a point, I expect. I bet I'll make a nine, though, or at least an eight. I hope I'll score better than Marcus, to show him I don't need love to win the Hunger Games.

Marcus Nosa, District One (16)

Miri walks out of her private session, looking proud of herself, though I can see she has a bruise on one shoulder. She goes to return to Aphrodite and Topaz, sailing out of the room without giving me a glance. Aww, come on, Miri, why can't you give me a chance? I'll still be besotted with you even if you treat me like mud on the bottom of your shoe.

Entering my private session, I see the Gamemakers observing me with mild interest. All right, let's see if I can do this. I turn the fighting simulation onto hard, then drop to the floor, and a knife embeds itself in the wall an inch from my ear. From the floor, I send a jet of acid at the training dummies, and the one in front dissolves. The remaining three run after me, so I scurry up a metal climbing apparatus, escaping a swipe with a sword by centimeters. Great, fabulously great, I didn't have time to grab a weapon, and I hear the gamemakers starting to laugh. Oh right, I can use my acid. I release a torrent of the green liquid, and it splatters over the training dummies, turning them into paste. I see one dodged out of the way, so I jump off and land feet first on his head. CRACK. It hits the ground and splits open. Crunch.

I get up and bow to the Gamemakers. "That's what will happen to the tributes in the arena when I finish with them," I announce, then swagger out of the room, confident of a 10.

Thalia Bronx, District Two (15)

Finally, my chance! I get to show off my skills, score a perfect 12, impress the gamemakers to no end, what's not to like? Marcus walked out of his session looking even more proud than Miri, so he's done a good job. I intend to do better, of course.

I run into my session, and without wasting any time, I activate my energy burst and jab the fighting simulation to Very Hard. Six training dummies burst into motion and are after me. They are no match for my energy burst speed. I run rings around the confused things, then run up a wall and flip backwards, knocking down the one in front, which knocks the rest down. They tumble over like so many dominoes, all in a row. This is fun! I giggle and hop lightly onto one of them, then using my energy burst, stomp on its shoulder. It breaks open, and the whole thing is disabled. I use up my remaining energy to punch each of the other five practice dummies in the head, and one by one they break apart. The Gamemakers are nodding to each other, impressed. I don't think I'll get the best score, though. I know it.

Tristan Bronx, District Two (18)

My sister dances wildly out of her session, giggling, and leaves the room to tell our mentors Athelstan and Shantelle about what she did. Athelstan will be delighted, I'm sure, but Shantelle will just say, "Good job, kid." She went through some terrible things in her Games, I think she saw her whole Career alliance killed before her eyes, and she doesn't care about anything anymore. Athelstan just went a little weird and too cheerful from what happened to him. But never mind him now.

In my training session, I stand calmly before the Gamemakers, pick up a morning star, then set the fighting simulation to Extreme. The Gamemakers are surprised, I can see. Who can beat level Extreme, the highest level? I can. I put up a forcefield, milliseconds before a mace rams into it. If it were a real mace, it would have crushed my head. I lunge out of the forcefield for a second, use my morning star to break one of the eight practice dummies surrounding me, and duck back in. I do this to each one, then banish the forcefield. I did it perfectly. The Gamemakers are openly applauding. I expect to get a 12, certainly, so I hope Thalia won't be too mad.

Erica Jones, District Three (16)

This will be a nightmare, I know it, I know it! I'm going score a three. Or a two. Or a one. If possible, a zero. Then Narui will sneer at me, my escort Zillah will gasp in outrage, my mentors Cody and Nanoa will shake their heads in disappointment. Because I'm useless.

I enter the room, head down. The Gamemakers are barely paying attention, because they assume District Three kids can't do anything. I certainly can't.

Halfheartedly, I go to the snares station, and quickly prepare a snare. Nobody is watching. Then I build a rough shelter out of branches, completing it in about two minutes. It would protect me from strong winds in the arena, too bad I can't take it with me. Only one Gamemaker is observing. She smiles, pitying me. I see her mouth, 'I'll try to get you better than a zoo.' What? Oh, not zoo, two. Thanks. How comforting, I'll probably still get a two, because what does that gamemaker care about me? Nothing, like everyone else in this whole Capitol. I can't do anything.

I purposely knock down the shelter and the snare on my way out.

Narui Chahyne, District Three (14)

Erica storms out of her session, almost pushing me over. Well, Miss I'm-better-than-Narui, let's see if I can beat your score. She's upset, so she probably did a bad job, and I'll be able to outscore her, ending all this nonsense about me being weak.

I enter at a run, and go for the climbing station, scaling a tree in seconds. The Gamemakers aren't paying attention. Time to step up my game.

I turn to mist and float down the tree, materializing next to the knives. I take one, and picking up a piece of flint, I start to chip away at it. The Gamemakers are raising eyebrows, and some of them are laughing. When I finish, I hold up what I made. It is a sharp knife. To demonstrate its usefulness, I cut a piece of bark off a tree, then a thin twig from a branch. Sawing harder, I cut off a whole branch. Come on, isn't that useful? I could build a shelter if I cut off a lot of branches! The Gamemakers still don't seem to care, and only one is watching. A lot of good this all was. I know I'll get a bad score, and I throw the knife at the wall as I stomp out.

Elizabeth Shore, District Four (16)

Both District Three kids came out of their sessions looking furious, therefore they must have done terribly, as they do almost every year. Pitiful.

I zoom into the training room with my excellent new speed, take a sword in one hand and a spear in the other, and then head for the fighting simulation. I set it to Very Hard. I bet I can beat it, yes, I'm sure, maybe I'll even get the best score.

Two practice dummies throw their spears at me, and I catch them, one in each hand, and send them back. The spears knock off the heads of my incompetent assailants. Two down.

I feel the wind of a sword sweeping toward my neck, so without looking, I stab my own sword backwards. The practice dummy sneaking up behind me crumples to the ground. Two more rush toward me, one from each side, so when they've reached me, I jump up and do a split in the air. My feet crack into their heads, leaving them both broken. There is one left, and it's trickier than the others. It circles me warily, searching for a chance to jab its sword in and end the combat. I see it is performing a complicated duck-and-weave maneuver, that I've never been able to replicate at home. But nobody would try it in an actual fight with me. Here, though, this is an excellent chance. I copy the move, then feint toward its arm. Following the fake swipe, its head is met with a staggering blow, and the silly thing is broken to pieces. I stand triumphant over it. Waving to the Gamemakers, I walk out with a smile on my face. I was perfect.

Nurturew Quetile, District Four (13)

Elizabeth looks like the proudest person in the world as she returns to our floor, to tell Adrian and Irvette, and our escort Tasha. I guess I'll have a lot to work up to in my session, I admit to myself glumly as I enter. I go straight for the swimming, because at least that's one thing I can do, since I'm from District Four. I've learned my lesson to never go for the weapons. That was a huge mistake earlier, but if I can somehow get a good score, I'll be able to join the Careers.

I jump into the water, and swim all the way to the bottom of the pool. I feel like I'm about to pop, so I swim back up and look hopefully at the Gamemakers. They don't seem impressed. Come on, they should be! I mean, could they do that?

Searching for something else I can do, I decide to actually try out the fighting simulation. I set it to level medium, and three practice dummies start to chase me. I lead them to the pool, and when they have almost reached me, I send a huge blob of water to pull them into the pool. What a handy power. It envelops all three of them, but just as they are falling into the pool, one of them grabs my ankle, pulling me after them. I fall in, entangled with the practice dummies, yelling and floundering around. The Gamemakers are in fits of mirth, and by the time I drag myself out, I know I'll get a horrendous score. Elizabeth will never let me hear the end of it.

**There will be three chapters for the private training sessions! Sorry about the delay for this, I think my muse took a small vacation. Anyway, I've also updated my Battle Royale story, for any of you who like that. Reviews for that and this would be much appreciated! So, my Games-hungry Capitolites, review!**


	22. Preview of the Games: Murderer

**This is a preview of the Games, with an unknown POV. You should be able to figure out who it is, though. I am so sorry for this delay, but I am getting no inspiration for the private training sessions. I shall keep trying, though.**

"There's no way you can kill someone and get to the other side of the experience unchanged."

-Charlaine Harris, Definitely Dead

(Unknown) POV

My feet, in their heavy boots, crunch through the snow. I'm freezing. I am freezing to death, without fire, without shelter, without food. Alone.

They're dead. I have seen so many deaths, even caused one. I'm out to cause another.

I am out to take revenge, following footsteps in the snow, following them to a murderer. A murderer.

"YOU HEAR THAT, CAPITOL?" I shriek, spittle flying from my mouth. "MURDERER! YOU'RE ALL MURDERERS!" Every single one. Pain, suffering. The only person I cared about. Gone. In a heartbeat. Killed by the monstrous, wretched, wicked murderer I'm tracking down. She will fight. They all will, but I've got to win, I've got to, for my beloved, for everyone. She won't escape me.

A rabbit runs across my path, and looks up at me with wide black eyes. I pick it up. How fragile, this little life. How easily extinguished. Like my beloved, who I could have saved. The spear was meant for me. But my love died instead.

Before I know it, I've thrown the rabbit to the ground and kicked it away, and I'm beating the ground with my fists. The cold cuts through like knives. I don't care. I don't care about anything. There's a voice, shrieking, shrieking, sharper than the cold. I think it's me. Who cares? If the Careers come, I can take my revenge on the beast. The murdering beast.

"THE BEAST! BEASTS! I HATE YOU, CAPITOL!" I barely hear myself.

"GO AHEAD AND KILL ME, I DON'T CARE!" If they decide to kill me with an avalanche, I can at least join my love. Taken so soon. Taken away from me.

I see a white flower growing ahead of me. It's beautiful. Pure and innocent. Like my dear, my darling, my precious flower.

The murderer is close ahead. I will kill her. I will throw a spear at her and I will laugh in her face and I will watch her die. Like I had to watch my flower die.

Somewhere close is the girl from District One. Somewhere close is the murderer. Somewhere close is the girl who took my precious flower from me, my love, my Bibi.

**That was quite the sneak peek! I hope you like it. I will try to get the next private training session chapter out soon. Now, if you don't review, River Tam will kill you with her brain! (Awesome points to you if you've watched Firefly and Serenity.)**

**It would light up my day, so please review!**


	23. Private Training Sessions: Part Two

"From my training I can get a good idea of what I'm capable of."

-Paula Radcliffe

Aaliyah Kingsport, District Five (16)

I walk into my session, prepared to show them what I can do. If I want any chance of making it far, I'm going to have to have sponsors. If I want sponsors, I need a good training score. So I'll do my best.

In the training session, I go straight for the knives. Finally I can use them, I've been trying things like swimming and disguise for the last few days of training, but now I can do something I won't fail miserably at, something I'm good at.

I take aim with a knife at a target. The Gamemakers are at least watching, probably only because knife throwing isn't normal for District Five. Any combat skill isn't usual for District Five; we rarely win, since knowledge of electric power doesn't often make you a victor.

I hurl the knife, and it lands straight in the bullseye. That got some reactions from the Gamemakers. I take another knife, and throw it at the other knife. It knocks it down. I throw another knife at the rope holding the punching bag; it severs it and the bag falls down, spilling its contents of sawdust. Then I take a final knife, sending it spinning into the door, barely ajar, with enough force to open it wide.

I bow and walk out.

Charlie Blue, District Five (13)

Aaliyah walks out looking like she's just been told she got a twelve. Maybe she will, because I now know her real strength, the one that she and her mentor Prysm have been whispering about. Knives. She threw a knife into the heavy door hard enough to swing it open. I wouldn't even be able to budge the door. Well, let's see what I can do at all.

I step into the training room, and go to the fire building station. I've at least learned to do that. I build up a fire, feeding it with leaves. The head gamemaker Cassia Helms actually yawns. How rude! Well, what else can I do?

I quickly put together a small shelter out of branches and cover it with moss. That would keep you warm and dry inside it, provided you're really small! Come on, isn't that useful?

Cassia and the other Gamemakers still aren't paying attention. This is terrible. I'm going to get a bad score, aren't I? A really bad score.  
I am so doomed.

Bianca Calder, District Six (17)

The small boy from District Five comes out with watering eyes. He pushes past me and heads for the elevator without a word. I suppose he didn't do a very good job. I hope I will, though.

I enter and glance up at the Gamemakers. They are barely watching me, which is unfair, but maybe I can draw their attention. See, under the pressure of my great-great-grandfather's victory, I got ahold of a sword in my district. Don't ask me how. Anyway, I've practiced with sword fighting for a while, so I have some talent with it.

Selecting a sword and taking up a defensive stance against a waiting avox, I signal for the fight to begin. He begins with a slow, easy thrust, which I parry without difficulty. He jabs toward my arm, but I can tell it's a feint, so I block the sudden swipe at my leg. Now he really starts fighting. I dodge and twist, avoiding a flurry of blows, and take a few steps back, to get some room. This turns out to be a bad idea. I trip on a discarded branch from the shelter building station, and stumble backwards, wildly off balance. The avox, taking advantage of my disorientation, comes in for the final strike. Wait, though, isn't there something Kyle showed me how to do? I let the avox knock me over, then shoot out my legs into his chest, sending him flying across the room. I won.

Mother and Father will be so proud of my score, particularly Mother. And it's what I'm competing for, right? Making Mother proud, honoring my great-great-grandfather's memory?

I never wanted to be here.

But it's all about the glory, isn't it?

Not mine. Theirs.

Killian "Kyle" Edwards, District Six (18)

Bianca stumbles out of her session, not looking at anyone. Poor Bibi. Did she not do very well? That doesn't seem right. She is terrific with swords. But now it's time for me to go in, and display my abilities with swords as well. Bibi did let me use hers from time to time.

I enter and peruse the swords rack. The Gamemakers seem highly interested, probably because not one but both District Six tributes are taking an interest in swords.

Taking a long and curved blade, I nod to an avox girl, and begin the sparring.

I go for the first blow, and she dodges, but barely. She retaliates with a stab towards my foot. I kick her in the knee, gently, so she trips and her aim spoils. With an upward strike, I knock the sword away from her. When I think the battle is over, she flips onto her hands and whacks me in the jaw with her knee. While I am stunned and clutching my mouth for a moment, the avox has the chance to scoop up her sword again and thrust it at me.

With a split second to react, I turn my shoulder and let the blunt sword bounce into it, then back into her nose. She reels off, cupping her hands under it to catch the blood. Oh Panem! Did I break it?

"Did I break your nose?" I gasp, and run over to help. She shakes her head and leaves the room, blood filling up her hands. My shoulder is bruised and throbbing from the blunt sword, but it's not as bad as what I did to her.

That was wrong of me.

Alyssa Nightbloom, District Seven (15)

The District Six boy is crying when he walks out. Honestly. Fat tears are gathering up in his stricken blue eyes and rolling down like so many raindrops on a windowpane. He's eighteen, for Panem's sake! If he did a bad job and won't get a good score, well, it's not that important! Sponsors aren't vital. As I'm about to prove.

I summon up a storm around myself, clouds and lightning flashes, the works. I then make a grand entrance into my private session. The Gamemakers are startled. What do they think I'm going to do? Attack them? Ha ha, what a joke. My family would be murdered. That's what I thought would happen when I accidentally killed the Capitol woman while testing my powers. But no, they let me off with a warning. And if I had killed the Avox, there would be no punishment. Only the almighty Gamemakers matter. Makes me hate them even more.

I send a bolt of lightning crackling into the air, making my pompous audience jump. I shoot out another one, and another.

"Gamemakers!" I yell. "Do you want to know what I think of you? Do you? Well, let me tell you exactly, you utter- "

Jifere Asolki, District Seven (15)

I hear the storm (pardon the pun) of insults unloosed by my district partner, all the way through the door. All the other tributes waiting out here seem shocked, but not me. I've lived on the same floor as she has, and I've heard more than my fair share of inappropriate words from her, including some I'd never even heard of before. To tell the truth, I admire her. I would never admit it though, she'd laugh her head off. That's Alyssa Nightbloom for you.

Finally she storms (pardon me) out of the room and heads into the elevator, ignoring the whispers and glances abounding around her.

It's my turn. I walk in cautiously, and see scorch marks on the ceiling. Yowch. Better show my knife skills, before the Gamemakers think both District Seven kids are no good.

I take four knives from a stack, and position myself to throw them into the targets. I throw the first one, but it barely hits the target at all, instead landing on the very edge. No good. I'm too nervous here, having a ton of haughty Capitolites observing me, throwing at a real target.

I close my eyes to concentrate. Okay, let's pretend, Jifere. You're just at home, only Nathan is watching you, and you're throwing knives at the door. Only that. Easy, you've done it a thousand times-

I hear three thunks, and open my eyes. The Gamemakers are as shocked as I am to see all three knives in the middle ring. I did that with my eyes closed! Yippee! I rule!

Flanella McCoy, District Eight (14)

Jifere dances out, twirling in circles and pumping his hands in the air. I can't help giggling. He hears me, grins, and twirls again. "I rule, Flanella! Woo-hoo!" He dances into the elevator before I can ask what happened. I know he's good with knives, but surely just throwing knives well wouldn't elate him this much.

Let's see, though, what shall I do?

I fly into my session and turn an elegant aerial pirouette. Then I swoop down to the camouflage station and start painting my arm with dark swirls of grey dirt and dust. When I hold my arm up to the Gamemakers for them to see, it looks like a shadow. I do this to the other one, and hike up my skirt to do the same to my legs.

After I've also painted my face, I look like a shadow, except for my training outfit. Can't do much about that. But now I slink, slink around the room, showing how I could evade a tribute hunting me. The Gamemakers are watching, but only a little. So mean of them.

I sneak up to the door. I don't think the Gamemakers even see me. Wait, that's because they're engrossed in a roasted turkey!

I've lost my chance of sponsors to a dead bird.

Ashely Downing, District Eight (18)

When I walk into my private session, I can tell the Gamemakers have started to get bored already. When the outer districts are reached, they begin to only concentrate on their food and alcohol. Unless a tribute puts on a very good show, like I'm about to do.

Selecting a spear, I place myself in a good position in front of the targets. Left leg forward, arm pulled back, leaning just a bit back- then lean forward and release.

THWAP!

The spear lands in the bullseye.

The Gamemakers are excited now, I can see. Surprised. They should know that someone from District Eight would have steady hands, from stitch-stitch-stitching all day long.

I take a knife and throw it into the bullseye of another target.

Finally, I use a bow. I've learned how in training, and it turns out I have deadly aim with arrows.

Whisst-thunk.

Whisst-thunk.

Bullseye, bullseye.

Watch out, tributes...


	24. Sam, I Do Adore Thee

**Alright. I am not getting much inspiration for the last private session (obviously I'm not giving up), so I'm writing from a completely new POV I may use from time to time: a Capitol fangirl obsessed with this year's tributes. Her name is Janix Lisabelle. So, enjoy!**

"Without obsession, life is nothing."**  
** -John Waters

Janix Lisabelle, Capitol (16)

You would not believe how popular this year's tributes are already! There are already playing cards, t-shirts, interviews from families and friends- you name it. Even though only their Reapings and chariot rides have been seen! It might be a new record. The biggest surprise was, of course, Orcha Mellow: The Little Pixie. So intriguing that she snuck onto the train instead of volunteering. How strange. And exciting, like all the others!

I walk into my room, where my Hunger Games-obsessed friends are waiting. They're as obsessed as I am, so we discuss all the tributes together.

"Hi, Janix!" says Cammy, bouncing around. "You're kinda late, so let's just begin now, okey-dokey?"

"Sure," I say, sitting down on my plush pink bed. "Let's start now with New Crushes. Everyone, who are they?"

"Well, obviously Tristan, he is such a dreamboat," Cammy swoons. "Those sapphire eyes...that angelic face...what's not to like?"

"Okay, gotcha Cammy, it's Tristan Bronx," I affirm, scribbling it down in my fluffy purple notebook. "How about you, Tess?"

"Well," says Tess, twirling her scarlet hair around her finger, "I'd have to choose, like, all of them! Except, you know, the little ones. Jakob, Rory, Charlie and Nurturew. They're cute, but, like, too young. I guess, if I had to choose, it'd be Ashely. He's a-mazing! You know what I mean. Icy blue eyes, come on people, you know those are my downfall."

"Yeah, like two years ago, that Jordan Spen from District Seven," teases Cammy. "Eyes like the sky! You were hung over on him for weeks after he died. Actually, you still are. Gosh, get over it Tess! He's only a Sevener."

"Anyway," I yelp, separating the pair, "how about you, Valentine?"

"Hmm. I suppose, out of the obvious four of Killian, Ashely, Phoenix or Tristan, I'd go for Tristan. Them, because they're the oldest. Tristan, because of that handsome face." Valentine is the oldest in our group, so I guess she'd only want eighteen year olds.

"Woo-hoo!" crows Cammy. "Two votes for Tristan the dreamboat!"

"And you, Ajax?" I ask the only boy here. He's not any of our boyfriends. He's just a friend.

"I would pick Flanella," he says without hesitation.

I jerk away from him. "She's fourteen, and you're seventeen! Way too young!" I shout, scandalized.

"Fine. Then...Miri."

"Fifteen, but I suppose that's better," I sniff. "And as for me, without a doubt, I'd choose...Sam!"

The others stare at me, then start to giggle. "Sam? No way. What's so special about him?" Tess scoffs.

"Exactly. I don't go for dazzling looks or perfect hair or piercing blue eyes. I like a boy next door." I really would prefer Sam McEowan over, say, Ashely Downing. Sam is just nice. Plain and nice. If I were a girl in District Twelve, I might be his girlfriend.

"Oh, guys, look what I have! I forgot to show you before!" says Cammy. She reaches into her leopard-print bag and pulls out a white shirt. On the front it has a picture of Sam, with his wonderful smile. The quote on the shirt is what he said at his Reaping. 'One, I'm not a little boy. Two, I wish good luck to all the ladies.'

Oh, Sam. So noble. So adorable. I hope he wins.

**Yeah, so...short, but I hope to get out my next chapter soon. By the way, I have a new poll up! And I started a Battle Royale SYOS: Submit Your Own Student. I'd like some students to be sent in, please! **

**Please review, or I will curse your inevitable betrayal! (massive admiration if you recognize that!)**


	25. Private Training Sessions: Part Three

"To know how to hide one's ability is great skill."

-Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Calida Blitz, District Nine (13)

I've decided what I'm going to do. I'm going to play it safe and not be a target, by not showing what I could really do. I'm not allowed to use my fire power in my private session anyway, I have those fireproof gloves on, probably because I might otherwise burn up the Gamemakers.

I walk in slowly, looking around with my big, beautiful dark eyes, pretending to be nervous. Taking a knife, I purposely throw it into the outer ring. It doesn't really matter anyway. The Gamemakers are engrossed in a great big roasted bird. What was it called again? Turkey? I had some for breakfast, it was quite nice actually, after I scorched it a little. Jakob just gobbled it down.

I rub my eyes as if wiping away tears at my failure. Pathetically trying again, I intend to make it land in the outer ring again. Unfortunately, my real skill shows through, and it makes it into the bullseye. That made them notice. Rats!

I shrug my shoulders innocently. "Lucky shot!" I call, hoping they take it as such. Then I run out, praying I won't score very high.

Jakob Caraway, District Nine (11)

My head still feels funny from when I hurt it. But I still can probably play in the game. You know, they still haven't told me what I'm supposed to do! They just said something about going into an arena. It's the strangest thing.

Let's see. Before Aaliyah went out, she said I was supposed to go in that room after Calida went, and show off my skills.

I skip into the room, startling all the people who are sitting up there and eating.

"Hi!" I call, beaming up at them. "I'm supposed to show you my skills! So here I go!"

I run up to the automated obstacle course. That's what the trainer said it was called. Since I'm small and light, it's quite simple for me to get past. I press the button to begin, and hop on.

The surface I'm on starts moving toward a brick wall. I dodge it, easily, and duck under a swinging stick. Next is the tricky blade part. A bunch of spikes pops up through the floor, but I'm too quick to be caught, and I grab a ledge in the brick wall. It starts to sink through a hole in the ground, so with a leap, I manage to balance with my toes on a moving platform.

The final part is easy, it's just a series of moving tiles. I jump from one to another until I reach the end. "Tada!" I say, bow deeply, and leave the room.

Promise Hawk, District Ten (15)

That little District Nine boy, Jakob, skips out, grinning for all he's worth. He is so adorable. So much like Rory. I'd have asked him to be our ally, but he's already Aaliyah's ally. She's kind of threatening to the other tributes, and I don't really want to hang around her. Ember, however, is just amazing. It's so sad, too, her birthday is in a few days. She'll be sixteen and without a birthday party.

"Promise!" hisses Rory. "Go now! It's your turn!"

His small hands push me into the room, and the door closes. Oh well, got to get this over with.

I've learned to do a lot of things in the training center. So I begin with a whip. Selecting a long one with metal fringe on the end, I grow large to add more force and strength, and snap the whip at a human-shaped target. It tears a long hole in it. I strike again, and again, ripping it into tiny pieces. Finally, I run back, snatch up a knife, and hurl it into the ragged remnant of a face.

"Thanks for watching, Gamemakers!" I yell. They seem to have been paying attention at least moderately. So I snap my whip in the air just for the fun of it, and run out.

Rory Hawk, District Ten (12)

When Promise comes out, I carefully study her expression. Let's see...she did a very good job, judging from her eyes squinching up in a partly hidden smile. But also, the Gamemakers weren't paying a ton of attention, I can tell because that telltale vein in her neck is pulsing, and her eyebrows are almost imperceptibly lowered. I'm know she'll get a good score, though.

I walk into the room without looking at the Gamemakers, since they make me nervous.

First, I take my usual blowgun from its rack. I kind of, shall we say, altered it a little in my room. So I expect to get a high score. I insert a dart, look down the tiny laser sight I installed, and fire at a human shaped target. The dart lands in the nose. Excellent. Even though I can't see them, I know they're watching now. I fire another dart, just four centimetres from the heart. Finally, I dash toward it, winding around rows of weapons and other training things, until I reach the target. Since I've steadily accelerated through the training center, I have a lot of speed built up, so I crash into the target and knock the whole heavy thing over. Yes! I win! I win! I win!

Karlina Pareith, District Eleven (17)

The District Ten boy came out, so it's my turn. No. Oh, no, no! I can't do anything! I can't! I feel tears filling my eyes again, but Phoenix notices, and wraps a comforting arm around me. "It's okay, Karlina. You'll do an excellent job. You'll do better than I will. Remember, you've learned so much about fighting and survival, right? Go ahead. Show them."

His words calm me, and I manage to enter the room, looking anywhere but at the Gamemakers. With a shaking hand, I select a short sword, and wave an avox over. I take a deep breath and begin sparring. The avox is going easy on me, thankfully. He's only making a few strikes, which I counter with my own. I try a surprise stab but he dodges, so I stretch out my arm with my elastic-like power, and tap him in the neck from behind. That would mean I had won. So he raises his arms in surrender. After the quick battle, I have time to match up some edible plants, which I do easily, and then I leave.

Here, then. Maybe here, if I get a good score, I won't just be the crybaby. Maybe I'll be somebody.

Phoenix Florence, District Eleven (18)

Karlina has a small smile when she comes out. I'm glad, that means she must have beaten her anxiety and showed her true skills. The poor little thing. Every night, I hear her sobbing her pretty green eyes out. She buries her face in her pillow but that does nothing to muffle it. I must protect the fragile girl, no matter what.

Orcha pokes me in the arm, reminding me to go in. I poke her back and walk in, my head held high. I am going to show those Gamemakers what I can do and I won't be afraid. I head for the maces, since I've learned a lot about blunt weapons in training. An avox steps up for practice combat with me, and goes in for a headshot without warning. Since I'm slow and clumsy from being in bed at home for ages, I can't quite avoid it all the way, and it clips my arm. Wincing, I reflexively flail out the other arm, and it catches on an overhead branch of a climbing tree. Hmm.

The avox man swings his mace, which would have crashed down brutally on me, except I'm not there anymore. I turned my arms into this magnetic material I learned about in the Capitol, called alnico, and just as I hoped, they were pulled up to the tree. It's not a real tree, there's magnetic metal underneath. I swing down again and crash into the avox, knocking him down and winning the fight. I feel very proud of my quick thinking, but suddenly I'm dizzy, and my head...ow, it's hurting me...is it the bone splinter at last?

Sorry, Mother, I think as I crash to the floor...

Orcha Mellow, District Eleven (14)

Two avoxes carry Phoenix out the door on a stretcher. "What happened?" I exclaim, jumping to my feet. "Is he okay?" There's no sign of injury on him at all. The avoxes don't answer me but simply leave the room. One of them gestures at the training room.

Trying to forget my shock, I step in, and take note of the things I could do. There are some weights I could lift. I go to the weight lifting station, glance up at the Gamemakers, and see that not a single one is looking at me. What? Why are they ignoring me? Is it because I'm small and skinny, and I look like I can't do anything? That's not fair!

I pick up a heavy weight, fighting to lift it to my head. Then I throw it at a targetboard, producing a heavy _bonggggg_ sound as it hits and rolls across the floor. That gets their attention but not in the right way. They laugh, assuming that I dropped it.

Biting my tongue to stop the angry words I'm thinking, I pick up two smaller ones, one in each hand, and throw them at two different targetboards. They each hit right on the mark, making smaller sounds, but noticeable nonetheless. Finally, some of them look up from their wine glasses. They nod, but they look bored. I take hold of a last weight, heavier than any of the others, and strain every muscle to lift it. It inches up, my arms trembling with exhaustion, until it reaches my stomach. Then I hurl it into the wall, making a huge sound that vibrates across the room. But they are barely watching anymore, because to them, I'm just a skinny little girl who shouldn't even be here.

It's not fair.

Ember Burns, District Twelve (15)

When the extra District Eleven girl comes out, she's obviously trying to compose herself, but it doesn't work with me. I can hear with my enhanced ears, I can hear her small, snuffling breaths. I can see she's biting her lip and it's going white, even though she's already across the room at the elevator.

I don't know if this is a blessing or a curse.

My ears are still ringing from the cacophony of the District Seven girl.

Walking into the training room, slowly, so as not to leave heavy footsteps, I stop at the spears. Taking one, I throw it at a target, and cover my ears the moment after it leaves my hand. The clang of it hitting the ring just outside the bullseye still assaults my ears.

Then I switch to edible plants, a mercifully quiet station. I match them up and make only one mistake. It was the holly berry, for some reason I forgot that they are moderately poisonous. That would be very bad in the arena.

Finally, I return to the spear station. Picking up a long one, I run to the target, ignoring the heavy pounding, and drive the spear straight through it. It plunges to its middle.

I feel proud of myself. But oh, my head _aches_...

Sam McEowan, District Twelve (16)

I'm the last one to go. Back around the third Quarter Quell (which happened to be no volunteers), they had the boys go first in private training sessions, so the girls went last. not now. Now I have to have my demonstration in front of very bored Gamemakers who have sat through twenty-four already. Twenty-four, not twenty-three, which is that pixie girl's fault.

After Ember comes out, clutching her head, I make sure to switch off my power because it wouldn't do to freak out the Gamemakers, then go in cautiously.

I head for the knives, take a wickedly pointed one, and face a heavy sandbag used for boxing. I run with my full speed toward it, and when the knife connects, it tears a long gash in it. Sand spills out everywhere. Impressive, yes?

But the Gamemakers are drinking wine and getting tipsy.

I take a knife in each hand and slash at a human-shaped target. Soon, the head comes off, and falls to the floor. It bounces, and lands on my foot. It has two eyes pointing away from each other, and a weird little grin. Like it's saying, 'Haha, I'm dead!'

I can't help myself, and I start giggling madly. It doesn't make even the smallest bit of sense to paint a smile on a training dummy you're supposed to destroy. The Gamemakers notice me giggling, and are puzzled.

I don't care. I don't know if I should. I think I'm finally going crazy.

**FINALLY! I DESPISE writing private training sessions! They got so repetitive.**

**Anyway, I'm putting the other poll back up, the one about which character do you think will have the highest training score. The one about what couple you like most had the most votes at 'I would like a new couple'. And so you shall! Even if it takes a while...**

**The training scores chapter should be fun and easy to write, so it actually should be out soon. **

**On another note, if you like Battle Royale, I updated my first Battle Royale fic. Not the SYOS. Reviews for that and this would be much appreciated! Thanks in advance!**


	26. Training Scores

"Suspense is worse than disappointment."

-Robert Burns

Tristan Bronx, District Two (18)

Miri, Marcus, Liz, Thalia and I are all on the District One floor to see the scores. Careers stick together, in the Capitol and arena.

I know I'll have gotten a good score.

Thalia is also sure she will.

Elizabeth seems pretty sure, but she's less confident than I am.

Marcus has been boasting endlessly about how he will have a twelve, and Miri has been studiously ignoring him. She's been pretty quiet. She hasn't said if she thinks she'll score well.

I think something happened between her and Marcus.

Miri idly summons illusions of a woman she's told me is her aunt, and a boy she said was her friend back home. She keeps making the boy appear near her, and makes the illusion blow her kisses. Every time this happens, Marcus grows red and clenches his hands into fists.

Finally, the announcer Sherry Lockheart comes onto the screen. "Hello, Panem! Are we ready for the training scores?" she says, her red lipsticked mouth too close to the microphone. She has bright blue hair. I can hear her every breath and swallow. It's disgusting, like she has her face shoved up in front of mine.

"Well, I'll announce them now! Here we go, beginning with District One!"

Miri and Marcus tense up, staring at the screen with backs straight and faces composed. Their mentors Aphrodite and Topaz also are, hands on their tributes' shoulders.

"We have Miri Ismail-Pignati with a score of...nine!"

She smiles in relief, the first smile I've seen her give for a day or so. Aphrodite smiles, obviously proud of her tribute. A good start for our Career pack.

"And Marcus Nosa, with a score of eight!"

Uh-oh. This is not good, not good at all. Miri has a small smirk on her face, and is nodding to herself, as if this proved something. Topaz has a vein pulsing in his temple, and his hand is tightened on Marcus's shoulder.

"I will have something to say to you about being outperformed by a girl later, Marcus," he hisses. Marcus looks miserable.

Next, Sherry announces Thalia's score. Shantelle doesn't look like she's expecting much. She's just bored as always.

"For District Two, Thalia Bronx has a score of...nine!"

Oh, good. She beat Marcus. But she snorts in frustration and slumps down on the couch. That's my sister, always wanting to get the best of everything. Shantelle shrugs and wanders off to her bedroom.

"Tristan Bronx has a score of...ten!"

I whoop, as does my mentor Athelstan, but that's Athelstan's usual state. I'm certainly content with this score, even though the Gamemakers are cheating me out of a twelve. Thalia's going to be mad that I outshined her. I always do. I bet I'll have the highest training score of all the tributes.

"For District Three," begins Sherry. Thalia rolls her eyes. "Oh, not them. They always do terribly. They're so boring."

Charlie Blue, District Five (13)

"Erica Jones has a score of...five!"

Well, that's sad. The moment we get out of Career scores, the scores plunge down. There's still the District Four girl, though, and I bet she'll do well.

Galvan isn't even watching. He's just in the dining room, eating and drinking wine, as he's done for the whole time he's been at the Capitol. He's so useless, and probably will forget to send me sponsor gifts.

Prysm, however, is attentively watching by Aaliyah's side. She reminds me of a cat, sitting completely still on the couch, but fixated on one thing.

A picture of the spindly District Three boy appears on the screen. "Narui Chahyne has a score of...four!"

"Pathetic," mutters Prysm. Aaliyah glares at her.

"You don't have to be so nasty. He's just a little boy who tried as best he could, like Charlie," she says, and I have a moment of deep admiration for her.

"Exactly."

"Hey!" I yell. "I am not pathetic."

"Mr. Galvan, sir," calls Prysm in a falsely sweet voice, "Is Charlie pathetic?"

"Yes," comes a weary voice from the kitchen.

"That settles it," says Prysm decisively.

Everyone thinks so. My father, Prysm and Galvan, the Gamemakers. Maybe even Orcha. I wonder why she even allied me.

"And for District Four, Elizabeth Shore has a score of...eleven!"

Our heads whip around in unison. What? What in Panem?

"An eleven," growls Aaliyah. "Just brilliant."

That is, without a doubt, going to be the highest score of everyone. Because nobody scores twelves.

"Next is Nurturew Quetile, with a score of five!"

Shouldn't surprise me, seeing as how he wasn't even good enough to join the Careers. But he still scored better than Narui. Most likely, better than I will.

Rory Hawk, District Ten (12)

Dear goodness. An eleven? I had watched everyone in training, and did predict Elizabeth would score very high, but eleven? I was thinking more of a ten. She actually beat Tristan, who is no mean fighter himself.

"Next is District Five," says Sherry. I take one long look at her.

I nudge Promise. "Poor Sherry. She was divorced today."

Promise looks down at me, shaking her head bemusedly.

"I've lived with you my whole life, kid, and I still don't know how you're so smart. Come on. You know you're dying to. Tell me how you know."

"Okay. So, first, her eyelashes. She's been crying, because three of them are stuck together on each side, and Capitol mascara doesn't do that. And her left ring finger. There's a pale circle of skin on it, kind of sunken in from the rest of the finger. She just took her wedding ring off. And last, her purse. I can see some scratches at the top right corner, where her name is engraved. She scratched off the part with her husband's name. Simple."

Promise laughs. "You're a wonder, Rory-kins. Rory the wonder dwarf."

I don't argue because Aaliyah's score just came onto the screen, and it's an eight.

We all look at each other, shocked. We are as stunned as when Elizabeth scored an eleven. I hadn't even expected this. She's not a Career. How the Panem did this happen? She didn't show any particular skills in training, so I suppose she hid them. If any non-Career tribute were to score an eight, I would expect Ashely Downing to.

We are drawn away when her district partner, Charlie Blue, scores a five. Nice score for a small thing like him.

Auroch, Promise's mentor, shakes her head.

"Aaliyah is going to be a target, no doubt. At least she'll get sponsors. Right, Gander?"

My mentor Gander jerks his head up.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, of course. She'll get sponsors, all right."

He starts snoring again.

He's so helpful, right? Fortunately I won't need him that much. I have my brain.

"District Six," says Sherry, peering down at her papers.

"We have Bianca Calder here with a...seven."

That one I did anticipate. In training, she was doing very well with swords. I know why. Once a month at school, they show a random one of the past Games. Probably to pound them into our brains. The one showed a few months ago was from a very long time ago, and the victor was a certain Romet Davis from District Six. He had won by very quickly mastering the skill of swords, and so I was intrigued. After pilfering some documents from the Justice Building, I traced his family tree, right down to Bianca Calder. Apparently someone in that family, probably her mother, had somehow gotten her daughter to be trained with swords.

Promise shakes me, distracting me.

"Look, her district partner Killian also got a seven." The proof is there on the screen.

So Bianca helped train her boyfriend Killian Edwards. If he betrayed her in the Games, she could regret that sincerely. But why am I even thinking that? They love each other, and aren't even afraid to show it in public, all that kissing and hugging they do. Bonds of love can't be broken that easily, and neither could bonds of siblings, either...

Right?

Karlina Pareith, District Eleven (17)

So many high scores from the middle districts. I bet I'll get a one. No, I'm sure I'll get a one. My eyes start to water at the thought, and Phoenix slips his arm around my shoulders. Orcha just sits off to the side, away from Heather and King. Not saying anything. Her eyes are red. So, she's been crying too.

"For District Seven," says the announcer. I think her name was Shary. She glances down at her papers, and gasps in surprise.

"Er, Alyssa Nightbloom has...a one."

Well, I can't say I didn't expect that. Orcha shakes her head and sighs.

"I guess the Gamemakers didn't appreciate her outburst," says Phoenix, holding me closer. "I hope she won't be punished in any other way." His arms turn into a soft, furry material, and they feel nice around me.

"And Jifere Asolki has...a seven."

Another high score, from an outer district, but I'm not crying because my Phoenix is here.

"Don't worry, Karlina," he says. "I know you'll score high. Higher than I will, I bet."

I'm not sure I want to do that.

"For District Eight," announces Shary. "We have Flanella McCoy with a four."

That poor little thing. She's fourteen, I believe. She can fly and use camouflage but that's all I noticed. And around District Eight is where the Gamemakers start getting really bored.

"Ashely Downing has...an eight."

"That is unbelievable," says Phoenix. "That just doesn't make any sense. He's an outer district! The Gamemakers must have been more interested in their drinks by the time he had his private session!"

I would cry, for losing my hope of doing well compared to Aaliyah and Ashely, but I have my Phoenix. He won't let me cry.

Phoenix Florence, District Eleven (18)

Karlina leans on me, and I wrap my arms around her waist. It comforts her, so she won't cry. How I hate to see her cry. She is so delicate. I have to protect her.

"Next is District Nine," says Sherry Lockheart. I think the pretty girl from there will have done quite well, the way she was showing off and trying to get into the Career pack. The little boy, well, I'm not sure. He spent a lot of training smiling at people and trying to get into conversations with them.

"Calida Blitz has a score of...five."

Okay, that was unexpected. I saw she had the skills to score higher than that. Either she really messed up, or she's trying to go under the radar.

"And Jakob Caraway has...a four."

Well, that's not surprising. He's just a little kid. He doesn't even look like he's twelve, more like ten or eleven. Poor kid.

"For District Ten," says Sherry, adjusting her papers.

"Promise Hawk has a...seven."

Oh, amazing. She did seem capable with whips and throwing knives in training. I wonder what score her little brother will get. I hope he scores well.

"Rory Hawk has...a six."

Good job, little boy. That's even better than the boy from District Four, who, even though he's not a Career, should have picked up some skills.

I would get a good score, I bet, but for the incident in my private training session. I turned out to be fine. The bone chip had only shifted. But I'm going to have to be careful.

Karlina leans her head on my shoulder, and smiles, putting her hand in mine.

I will protect you, Karlina. I will protect you in the arena and I won't let you go.

Sam McEowan, District Twelve (16)

"Time to finish the scores up," says my mentor Kenneth, yawning ostentatiously. His little sister Kuthu, Ember's mentor, smiles and stretches out on the couch, revealing even more of what isn't covered by her pink knee-high dress. I know it isn't her fault, seeing that the Capitol has given her the fate of long ago Finnick Odair, (in other words, a doxy) but it has made me uncomfortable, since she's so pretty, and it distracts me. Kenneth is a male doxy, but doesn't flaunt it.

"For District Eleven, first we have Karlina Pareith with a...seven," Sherry says. Now that certainly surprises me. True, she's seventeen, one of the oldest ones, but she's a hopeless crybaby. Every time she made a mistake in training, she would cry. I suppose her partner Phoenix has helped her.

"And Phoenix Florence with a...six."

Imagine that. The large, calm boy scored lower than his crying tribute partner. Of course, I'm sure that the extra tribute Orcha will score terribly. She's so scrawny and small.

"Orcha Mellow has a...four."

Well! That was definitely terrible. Goodness.

"And for District Twelve, we have Ember Burns with..."

Ember presses her lips together nervously.

"A six."

She smiles a huge smile, flinging her hands into the air.

"Kuthu, I scored a six. I scored as high as the big Phoenix Florence boy. Maybe I'm not doomed."

"Oh, no. You're doomed all right," says Kuthu casually, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She points an elegantly manicured finger at me.

"Sam, darling," she simpers, "Toss me one of those peppermints, won't you, and be a dear?"

Cheeks turning red, I fumble for the bowl on the table, and throw a peppermint to her. She catches it and gives it a slow lick.

"Thank you, honey," she says, smiling triumphantly. "You are so helpful."

Ember frowns and turns away. I've got to do something make amends to her, seeing as how I just rated Kuthu's request over Ember's training score.

"Finally, we have Sam McEowan with a five."

Great. Worse than Ember. I bet she's smiling inside. What can I do to fix this with her?

Alyssa Nightbloom, District Seven (15)

The scores are done. I got what I expected, a one. Good. Who cares about sponsors anyway? Jifere, of course, will get plenty, with his score of seven.

Before Jifere can switch the television off, the screen changes. We both gasp and scoot back, because it's showing the town square of District Seven. The Capitol televises town squares for punishments.

Then I see a gallows set up in the middle of the square. I see the people who are standing there with their hands cuffed. And I scream.

Because it's my family. Dad, Mom, Jack, Rachel and Mary.

I scream again, and claw at the screen. Jifere has to drag me back, using all his strength.

"You- you bastards!" I shriek at the television. "I hate you, Capitol! I hate you! I hate you!"

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Jifere whispers frantically. "Please don't say that, Aly- ouch!"

I punch him in the jaw. He stumbles back, shocked. I give him one furious glance.

"Don't say that? What am I supposed to do, let them kill my family and not do anything about it?"

A Peacekeeper walks up to them, fitting the nooses around their necks.

"Why you doin' this to us?" asks Dad, slurring drunkenly. "I haven't stolen anythin' fer a week, and tha' was only a loaf of bread."

"Oh, Dad," I moan, pressing my forehead against the carpet. Tears are uncontrollably pouring out of my eyes. He is going to die. My wonderful, brave dad.

Mom is standing there and trembling, too scared to do anything. Like always. Oh, _Mom._

"You can't do this to us!" yells Jack, shaking the handcuffs. "We didn't do anything! This is wrong!"

"You're right, Jack. This is wrong," I growl. "I know why they're being punished. Because of what I did in my training session. Because I'm so brainless, I didn't think of what would happen."

"This is wrong!" Rachel and Mary cry, addressing the crowd, then the camera. "This is wrong!" Jack shouts it again too, and Dad joins in.

"This is wrong! This is wrong!"

Finally, Mom does too, and I'm yelling it along with them, even though they can't hear me. The crowd in District Seven begins to yell it too, softly at first, then loud enough to vibrate the camera.

"This is wrong! This is wrong! This is wrong!"

What has Jack begun?

Soon, all of District Seven is roaring it.

"This is wrong! This is wrong! This is wrong!"

A group of people breaks away from the crowd and rushes toward the gallows. They push the Peacekeeper off the stage, and free my family from their nooses. They start to pull at the handcuffs.

"No way," I breathe, my eyes huge. "No, bloody, way-"

The cuffs break, and they are free.

I let out a loud cheer, and so does Jifere. I can't believe what is happening. The population of District Seven has united, and they're all thronging around the Justice Building. They break in. They are actually attacking the building, tearing it all down, stone by stone. All because of Jack. All because of my big brother.

As if he heard me, he turns toward the camera.

"I did this for you, Ally. Be brave. You can survive. Just remember we all have faith in you! We'll be rooting for you every moment!"

I will come home. I have to.

I have to come home to my family. My brave family who started a small rebellion against the Capitol.

**Yay, a (relatively) quick update! I hope you all like the scores. And Alyssa's family. They are amazing!**

**Anyway, I'm making a new poll. A bloodbath poll. You vote for up to three characters you do not want to die in the bloodbath. Please vote.**

**Sam's cheeks are red,**

**Sherry's hair is blue,**

**If you review,**

**I will love you.**


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